


heathens

by haleinskibro



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Alpha Derek, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Stiles, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Dark Magic, English Translations Provided, Familiars, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Full Shift Werewolves, Harry Potter References, Like Confessions, Love Confessions, M/M, Magic, Magic-Users, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mates, Mating Bites, Mating Rituals, Mentioned Danny Mahealani, Mentioned Lydia Martin, Mild Gore, Protective Derek, Smut, Spells & Enchantments, Stiles Has Nightmares, Top Derek Hale, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Witch Stiles Stilinski, Wolf Derek, Wolf Derek Hale, and when I say angst, im bad at tags, its not a lot bc i dont know what that shit is, kinda i guess, thats more like it, theres a lot of shit going on idk, which is really just intense magic shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 17:49:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7811413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleinskibro/pseuds/haleinskibro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He began to drift off, eyes drooping down farther and staying closed for longer each time. He was almost asleep when he started to hear a noise, a voice saying something to faint for him to decipher. But, slowly, the voice got louder, more defined, words coming through clearer to his ears. </p><p>“Wake up. It is time. Wake up.”</p><p>He turned, his body trying to move up and forward toward the voice while his eyes stayed closed.. </p><p>“Wake up. You are safe, it is time. Wake up.”</p><p>He turned again. The wolf beside him began to whine, butting its head into his hip. His eyes were moving quickly under his lids. He was straining to get up, to see something and move. He can’t.</p><p>He’s on the verge of giving up despite the urgent yelling of the voice and the wet nose pressing into his hip when he hears a different voice, stronger and more powerful than the one before. </p><p>“Szczęsny. Wake <strong>up</strong>.” </p><p>And he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	heathens

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jessa_anna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessa_anna/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Night Owls Early Birds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5490227) by [Lissadiane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lissadiane/pseuds/Lissadiane). 



> this was a monster I had like, zero control over so I'm sorry but I'm also kinda not because I love the way this turned out and I reeeeaaaalllllyyyyyy hope you do too. 
> 
> Parts of the portrayal of Stiles' magic where influenced by [Night Owls Early Birds](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5490227) by [Lissadiane](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Lissadiane/pseuds/Lissadiane) which is an amazing story and you all should check it out because it's one of my absolute faves. 
> 
> Shoutout to my betas [maelyn](http://mygetawaymyfavoriteplace.tumblr.com) and [justine](http://poetsofbastille.tumblr.com) for putting up with me changing plots and my abundance of runon sentences and italics and m-dashes and generally me
> 
> Translations for the spells at the end of work notes so check that out. And, as usual, if you see something I missed or noticed something I should tag that I haven't, let me know and I'll get on that
> 
> Also, first time writing smut so sorry if it's bad oh wow I truly do apologise.
> 
> have fun and enjoy :)

_He woke up in the woods. The moon shined bright, casting eerie shadows off the trees that looked distinctly humanoid in the distance._

_He felt like he was being watched, a weird feeling of eyes on the back of his neck causing the hairs there to rise. Glancing over his shoulder he sees something, the glow of silver cutting through the darkness that the trees caused this late at night._

_He begins to walk north — how he knows it’s north, he’s not sure why but that’s the way he goes. The feeling of eyes on him gets stronger the farther he walks, more and more spots of silver shining in the corner of his vision._

_He started running, the smell fear and anxiety filling the clearing around him, hurting his nose with how sharp it was. He needed to get away, to leave behind the silver glow that he knows is going to plague his head for the foreseeable future. He was short of breath, muscles in his legs burning as he pushed himself harder and further, trying in vain to get away from whatever he knew was after him._

_Hands grabbed at his upper arms, the collar of his shirt, his knees and ankles and his waist, making him lose his balance. He falls, arms out in front of him in hopes of breaking the fall. The hands run over his skin, causing it to burn and smoke in the path they left behind. He screams, blood curdling screams that only cause the hands to move faster, press harder, linger longer._

_His blood is boiling and his flesh is tearing. He can feel blood, his blood, leaving his body and soaking into the ground beneath his back. His screams turned into whimpers and whines. He writhes around on the ground, wishing he had any strength in his body to push himself up, away from the hands that have finally left his body. The hands he can still feel hovering over him, waiting for something._

_There’s rustling around him, low whispers his human ears can’t understand. The murmuring blankets him, pressing closer to him, heavy on his chest, getting louder and louder. Chanting, they’re chanting, words Stiles doesn’t understand in a language so dead they’re basically ashes._

_Out of the corner of his eye he can see a shape, a figure, of an animal. Large and powerful, creeping forward slowly. It growled low and deep in its chest. It inched closer and closer to him, forcing the hands hovering over his body to retreat._

_Growl. Retreat. Louder growl. Retreat further._

_On and on it went until he could_ **_breathe_ ** _. The weight left his chest, left him gasping for air, left him crying in sweet relief.  Left him face to face with a wolf._

_Fur black as night, he was unable to tell where the wolf began and the night sky ended. Eyes bright and blue and magnificent they took his breath away. It was beautiful and terrifying all at once and he didn’t run, couldn’t run, even if his brain screamed at him to do just that._

_The wolf walked toward him, nose close to the ground. Trying to show it wasn’t going to hurt him now, not ever going to hurt him, it was only here to help. It walked closer and closer, nose still at the ground, still showing it wasn’t going to hurt him, until it came in contact with his skin._

_It’s cold nose made him jump, shocking him so much he ended upright, back propped against a tree’s trunk. The wolf stopped, shocked by the sudden movement, before continuing to push its nose into his skin, snuffling along the way._

_Satisfied with whatever it smelled, or didn’t smell, the wolf curled tightly into itself, pushing steadily against his hip. Reassurance that he wasn’t alone. That he was okay and nothing would come for him while it was here._

_He began to drift off, eyes drooping down farther and staying closed for longer each time. He was almost asleep when he started to hear a noise, a voice saying something to faint for him to decipher. But, slowly, the voice got louder, more defined, words coming through clearer to his ears._

_“Wake up. It is time. Wake up.”_

_He turned, his body trying to move up and forward toward the voice while his eyes stayed closed.._

_“Wake up. You are safe, it is time. Wake up.”_

_He turned again. The wolf beside him began to whine, butting its head into his hip. His eyes were moving quickly under his lids. He was straining to get up, to see something and move. He can’t._

_He’s on the verge of giving up despite the urgent yelling of the voice and the wet nose pressing into his hip when he hears a different voice, stronger and more powerful than the one before._

_“Szczęsny. Wake_ **_up_ ** _.”_

_And he did._

°°°

The only reason Stiles woke up was because someone was poking him and it’s pissing him off. His body felt like it had been dragged all the way to Tartarus and back, body twinging in pain  at even the slightest movement. His limbs felt like lead, his arms way too heavy to lift to bat away the roaming hands and sharp needles. His head throbbed, the bright white lights he could see through the thin skin of his eyelids not helping in anyway, and his tongue felt like sandpaper, dry and rough all while leaving a stale taste in the back of his throat.

Groaning, he rolled onto his left side, headache be damned, to try and go back to sleep. But because every higher power known to man hated him and wished for his eternal suffering, the hands didn’t let up, just continued to poke and prod and make his life horrible.

_Hands roaming over his skin, causing it to burn and singe. Causing him to bleed out to near death alone in the woods. No one to hear his screams, no matter how loud they were._

Stiles gasped awake, lurching into an upwards position before regretting it thoroughly, stomach rolling at his sudden movements.

_He could hear them chanting, the words smoothing over his body like a caress. They burned his insides and stole the air directly from his lungs. Tears stung his eyes before they escaped, rolling down his face and mixing with the blood that was already there._

There were hands on him, words being said that he couldn’t understand. His chest was burning as he tried to drag in enough air between his clenched teeth to actually stay alive. Tears were brimming in his eyes and spilling onto his cheeks. Slapping away the hands touching him he fell off the hospital bed— _hospital? Why am I in the hospital, oh god what happened?—_ to put as much distance as possible between them. He wouldn’t let them take him, not again. Not ever.

His vision was narrowing, eyes blurring everything in front of him when he feels another slight tap on his shoulder. Stiles jumped, scrambling back afraid and turned toward what touched him. He’s ready to scream and to fight tooth and nail to get away and get free when he focused on Melissa.

Her hands were pushed out in front of her, palms up to show that she wasn’t going to hurt him. A mask of calm graced her face but her eyes were wide and full of worry and a bit scared. Worried for Stiles. Scared of Stiles.

“Stiles,” She took a few steps closer, hands still outstretched and placating, “We’re here to help you, sweetie. Everything’s gonna be okay.” Coming up to sit down next to him, she put her arms around his shoulders and pulled him as close to her body as she could. His heart pulled in his chest as he shoved his head into her neck. Sobs wrecked his body as he held on to her tight. This was the woman that became his mom when his real one died all those years before. The woman that forced his dad to cope and deal and be a father again after his wife’s death. The woman who loved him like her own and stood by his side through everything for the last eight years. And she was terrified of him.

Melissa had one hand on the back of his neck while the other ran soothing motions up and down his spine. The tension in his back loosened, making his bones feel like jelly combined with the tears still making their way free. She started nudging her shoulder against his cheek, trying to get him to look at her again.

With a small smile, Melissa began to wipe away the tears still on his cheek. “Let’s get you back into bed.” Hauling both herself and Stiles up onto their feet, Melissa began shuffling them towards the hospital bed, arm wrapped tightly around Stiles’ waist to support him. Once he was finally in the bed, blankets tucked securely around his body, she ran her hand over his head once and kissed him on the cheek before saying, “I’ll call your dad and let him know you’re awake. And then we’ll talk. In the meantime, go back to sleep.”

Stiles nodded along, sliding deeper into the blankets as his eyes drifted close.

°°°

The next time Stiles woke up, it was to the sound of his father’s voice, deep and comforting in the background of his mind. There was another voice accompanying his dad’s, Melissa’s he was pretty sure, and the murmuring between them got louder, the words taking shape so Stiles could better understand them.

“John, I’m going to need you to calm down.” Melissa’s voice was slow and calm, talking to his dad the same way she talked to Stiles the first time he woke up. “I know you want to see him but you need to remember that whatever Stiles went through was traumatising for him. The first time he woke up, he fell out of the bed to try and get away from me and the other nurse. He looked like he was having some sort of flashback and I had to stop him from going into a panic. Just, be careful.”

“I get it okay just, Mel can I please just see my boy?”  Stiles heard his dad’s voice crack towards the end of the sentence. He sounded like he was crying.

“Of course. Come on.”

Stiles heard footsteps get closer and closer to his room door before they stopped right in front of it.

His dad opened the door and just stood there, staring at Stiles as if he had never seen him before, before making his way towards him and wrapping him in his arms tightly. Stiles clung to him just as hard, tears burning behind his lids.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.” John pulled back and actually looked at him, at the dark circles and bags under his eyes. He was twitchier that normal, eyes constantly roaming and taking in his surroundings. He was wrecked. “Don’t ever leave me again, okay? I need you, kid.”

Stiles huffed, a barely there smile on his lips. “I’ll try.” Detaching himself from his father’s hold, Stiles sat up higher in the bed and brought his knees to his chest. “Can you, uhm, can you tell me what happened exactly? I don’t remember much.”

Lie. He remembered groping hands and bony fingers gripping him harder than he thought possible. Hard enough to bruise him for the rest of his life. He remembered the smell of skin burning, the feel of it as well. He also remembered feeling protected. He remembered someone—or something—watching over him until he was safe. As safe as he could be from his nightmares.

“You didn’t come home on Tuesday. I wasn’t that worried at first because Melissa and I had to work a double and I know how you don’t like to be home alone when we do so I just assumed you were with Danny or Lydia. But when I came back Wednesday night, you still weren’t home. Room was clean like you hadn’t stepped into it for days, the house the same way I left it on Tuesday. Melissa hadn’t seen you either.

“I called Danny to ask if he had seen you and he said no, him nor Lydia had seen you in a few days so then I started to worry. Called your cell a few times and nothing. So I got a bunch of guys together and we started looking for you. Sent out the K9 unit and everything. It took us five days to find you, 300 miles away passed out in some wood in San Bernardino, Stiles.”

John closed his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing, “I’m just glad you’re okay, kid. When we found you there was, thankfully, nothing seriously wrong with you. Just slight dehydration and exhaustion. You’ve been here for a couple of days, just waiting for you to wake up so we can take you home.”

Stiles stared at his dad with wide eyes throughout the entire retelling. He couldn’t believe that he made it all the way to San Bernardino and had no recollection of how he got there or why he was there.

In the back of his mind, there’s a part of him that knew whatever he kept having flashbacks and dreams about had a large part to play with why he ended up 300 miles from home but he ignored it. He couldn’t let his dad or Melissa know what he remembered, they’d worry about him more than they already were. He couldn’t do that to them, he couldn’t make their lives harder than they already were with a spastic, hyperactive teenager at home.

Exhaling loudly, Stiles looked at his father and smiled, tears once again threatening to spill from his eyes. “Thanks for finding me, Dad. I love you.”

“I love you too. Always will.” Clapping a hand on Stiles’ shoulder, John moved to get off the bed. There’s a bag sitting beside him that Stiles hadn’t noticed until now. 

“I brought you some clothes when Mel told me you woke up. How about you get changed and I can take you home, okay? I’ll go check you out.”

°°°

Stiles was in the process of changing into the street clothes his father brought him, so glad to be out of the horrible hospital dress wrap thing finally, when a knock sounded on his door.

Turning towards it, he came face to face with the last person he ever truly thought he’d see in his hospital room. Alan Deaton, the local veterinarian.

“Uh, hi?” Tightening his hold on his hoodie, he turned fully to look at the older man in his room. He’s only met Deaton a handful of times, mainly when he was younger and with his dad to drop the K9 unit off for their routine checkups. Every time, the man was the picture of calm and composed, an eternally serene look gracing his face always. So Stiles was confused as to what he wanted with him.

“Hello, Mr. Stilinski. How are you feeling?” Deaton removed himself from his perch against the door, making his way closer to Stiles. He presented himself as a friend, someone neutral in everything he does but Stiles doesn’t trust it anymore. He knew there was more to this man than meets the eye. A soul he hides behind an armour of calm and collected.

“I’m fine.” He pulled his hoodie on quickly and sat down on the bed to pull on his shoes. “What are you doing here, Doc?” No one ever said Stiles had patience and it definitely got thinner the moment the vet took interest in him. “I can promise there are no stray animals in the vicinity that I know of.”

“Actually, Mr. Stilinski, I’m here for you. I heard about your little voyage into the woods, I take it that you’re okay?”

Squinting his eyes in suspicion, Stiles nodded his affirmation. He had managed to get out of the whole “situation” generally unscathed, the largest of his injuries being a mild concussion he got from falling and knocking himself unconscious. He didn’t understand why he wanted to know anything about it though. He was a _vet_ for crying out loud.  

Deaton nodded back, lips quirking up into a small smile as he sat down in the chair near the bed. He braced his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, staring at Stiles.

“Do you know what exactly happened to you, Stiles? And not what your father and doctors have told you. But what you remember happening.”

Stiles startled. He had written the weird flashbacks he’d been having as his brain playing tricks on him almost instantly after hearing his dad tell him what happened. Creating memories for him to hold onto and not focus on whatever truly happened to him in those woods. But maybe those memories were the truth. And with the way Deaton was looking at him, Stiles was inclined to think he believed the same thing.

“Stiles, I'm not going to waste anymore time so let me get straight to the point. I am not only a veterinarian in a small town, I'm an emissary. I don't have enough time to go into what that is and what it pertains, I know your father will be back here shortly to take you home. Just know that I am an ambassador, or go between if you will, for all things labelled “other” in the world. And now you're a part of this other category, Stiles.”

Deaton stood up suddenly and moved to stand directly in front of Stiles.

“You probably have questions and I'll try and answer as many of them as I can. Come by the clinic whenever you can and we'll talk.” With a quick nod of his head in Stiles’ direction, Deaton left the room.

Stiles was still sat on the bed, a far off look on his face when his dad finally returned and told him it was time to go home.

°°°

John had to go back to the station after he dropped Stiles off at home which was actually beneficial for the younger Stilinski in the long run.

Making his way upstairs, he quickly showered and changed his clothes before walking to the animal clinic to talk to Deaton. From the moment the man had left him alone in the room, his brain was shooting rapid fire, endless questions that he needed answered popping up that he filed away in the back of his brain until the right time.

The walk to the clinic was a short one and soon Stiles was pushing open the door. There was someone stationed at the front desk, a guy around Stiles’ age, who didn’t even look up when he walked in, just continued to flip through the catalogue in front of him. He had dark hair that flopped in front of his eyes and the weirdest jaw structure Stiles has ever seen—it was extremely crooked, one side looking like it had the ability to cut diamond while the other was simply lacking. The thick bands tattooed around his, rather impressive, biceps did nothing to stop the instant thought of _puppy_ Stiles got from looking at him.

Walking up to the counter that acted as the receptionist desk, Stiles rapped his knuckles on the glass to try and get the guy’s attention. When he finally looked up, a smile lighting up his face, Stiles mentally patted himself on the back because this guy was a total wobbly legged puppy trapped in a human body.

“Hi, how can I help you?”

“I’m, uhm. I’m here to see Deaton. Is he around?”

He looked at Stiles strangely, eyes squinting slightly as if to try and decipher his being before he smiled again and nodded his head. “Yeah, he’s in his office. I’ll go let him know you want to see him.” He began to make his way to the back towards Deaton’s office before he turned and looked back at Stiles. “What’s your name? I forgot to ask.”

“I’m Stiles. Stiles Stilinski.”

“Nice to meet you Stiles. I’m Scott.” With a nod, Scott moved to go talk to Deaton, leaving Stiles alone. He was only waiting for a minute or two when Scott came back to the front of the clinic with Deaton behind him.

“Ah, Mr. Stilinski. I figured I’d see your face here sooner rather than later. How can I help you?”

Running his hands through his hair, Stiles shrugged and said, “I’ve got some questions. I was hoping maybe you had some answers.”

Deaton didn’t react, knowing that Stiles was going to stand before him with questions sooner or later. Simply nodding, he motioned for him to move behind the counter and into his office.

“This way, Mr. Stilinski.”

Stiles moved past Scott, following Deaton into his office. He stepped behind his desk and took a seat while Stiles looks around.

There were floor to ceiling bookcases gracing three of the four walls of the office, each one filled to the brim with tombs and binders, even scrolls. There were jars filled with different herbs and powders placed haphazardly along the shelves as well, indecipherable symbols placed on the tops of each to establish some sort of organisational system that Stiles didn’t understand.

There was a certain aura about Deaton’s office that Stiles felt deep in his bones. There was a humming under his skin. He felt like a live wire, just bursting with energy with no way to release it. He—finally—dragged himself towards the chairs placed in front of Deaton’s desk in an attempt to calm himself down to no avail. His leg bounced up and down nonstop, his fingers tapped a beat out on the desk, forcing him to stay in constant motion.

The feeling under his skin got worse the longer he stayed still but he forced himself to sit and look at Deaton.

Deaton was just staring at him, his fingers steepled under his chin. It unsettled Stiles, the fact that the man’s face gave nothing away, making it impossible for Stiles to determine anything he may be thinking or feeling. The perfect poker face.

“So, Stiles,” Deaton shifted, placing his elbows on the desk as he leaned towards Stiles. “What questions do you have for me?”

Stiles shifted so he was leaning closer to Deaton, hands sitting in his lap. “Well, it’s just that, when you came to see me in the hospital, you seemed to know what happened to me. So I was hoping you could tell me. What happened, that is.”

“Well, in simple words, you finally came into your magic. But I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that.” Deaton got up from behind his desk and walked towards his shelves. “Stiles, all that you went through was the result of you unleashing whatever locked up magic you’ve acquired over the years. It was so much magic that, when it finally found its way free, it rendered you unconscious,”  He found whatever book he was looking for and made his way back towards Stiles. Sitting on the edge of his desk facing Stiles, he placed a book down in front of him.

“Wait, hold on. Rewind and say that again. Magic? What?” Stiles stared at Deaton wide-eyed, mouth agape. “How do I have magic? Magic isn’t real!” Jumping out of the chair, Stiles began to pace the office, hands running through and pulling his hair.

Magic. He was magic, at least according to Deaton. Magic was real. Witches and wizards and all things filled away in the wonderful, magical world of Harry Potter. Real. And Stiles was a part of it all. His dad was going to kill him.

He turned to look at Deaton again. The other man was as calm as ever, even smirking at Stiles’ internal dilemma.

Glaring at the man, Stiles made his way back in front of him. “So, saying I do believe your little...spiel, about me basically being Harry fucking Potter, which I don’t just so you know, I think you’re fucking crazy, what does that mean for me? For my dad and Melissa? How does this change my life?”

“Well, Mr. Stilinski, that depends entirely on you and whatever decisions you make from this point on.

“You compared this situation, your situation, to Harry Potter and I am sorry to say that there are worse things in the world than Dementors and The Dark Lord and being The Chosen One. There is death lurking around all corners and people—things—who would do anything in their power to be more. There are things that go bump in the night and people who will see you as nothing more than a small piece to a very large puzzle and wouldn't think twice about turning against you for their own personal gain.”

“And how do I know that you aren't one of those people? How can I be sure that what you're telling me is the truth and that you're here to help me, that you actually want to help me.” Stiles was getting scared. Scared that this _wasn't_ some elaborate prank to scare him and that this was actually his life now.

“When I went to see you at the hospital, what did I tell you I was?”

Stiles racked his brain in an attempt to recall the conversation he pushed to the back of his mind the moment it happened. “I don't know, you said something about being an emissary? What does that even mean?”

“It means I know what I'm talking about, Stiles. In short, an emissary is a peacekeeper and maker. We are people who are in the know about all things supernatural and otherworldly and work to keep everything between it balanced and keep the people that aren't in the know ignorant.”

“Okay, I get it. Or, at least I think I do and I'm just not ready to accept it.” He stared up at Deaton, eyes wide and questioning. He was scared. Scared that something was going to go wrong, that he was going to fuck up and hurt the people he cared about. That someone was going to die and it would be his fault.

“So, I'm magic. How?”

“Ah, the one question I do not have a definite answer to. I am almost completely certain you got it from your mother, however. Or at least her side of the family. The Dąbrówka family has always had strong ties to the supernatural, if I remember correctly, but your mother wasn’t blessed with the ability like other members of her family, at least that’s how it seemed.

“Stiles, I didn’t know your mother that well. She was nothing more than the lovely woman who married the next Sheriff to me, but I want to help you.” He went behind his desk and pulled out a stack of books, adding them to the one he got from the shelf earlier. “Take these books home and study them. They hold basic background information on magic and all that you can come to expect from this world and from your powers. Better than anything you might find on Google. Take them, study them, and come back here whenever you can and we’ll work on your control and your powers.”

Stiles took the books and walked towards the door of the office. Pausing suddenly, he looked at Deaton and nodded his head in thanks before leaving the office. He passed Scott on his way who looked at him like he was a new person.

Stiles nodded his head at him in acknowledgement of the other boy before saying, “I guess I’ll be seeing you later, Scott.”

Scott nodded back and lets his eyes flash an unnaturally bright blue as he stared at Stiles. “Welcome to the world of crazy and unbelievable shit, Stiles. It’s good to have you on our side.”

°°°

_When he opens his eyes, he sees himself. His hands and feet are bound together and he’s laid across a tree stump, eyes closed and body limp. There’s blood on his temple as well._

_The stump sits in the middle of a clearing in the woods, the trees forming a perfect circle around it. There are markings under where he is laid in a language he didn’t understand but vaguely recognised._

_The trees began to shift, exposing dark cloaked figures floating towards him on the stump. They’re all nondescript and unremarkable but they have an air of danger surrounding them and it scares him. He tries to leave, to get to a safe place far away from these people but he can’t move. His feet are glued to the ground, not allowing him to move. Forcing him to watch whatever is going to happen in this clearing._

_The figures have finally made it to the stump and are attempting to wake him up. In the end—after a few whispered words in a language he doesn’t know but chilled him to the bone regardless—he is awake and sitting upright. He can see the fear in his eyes, fear that gets more and more pronounced as the figures begin to move around him, chanting foreign words into the air and making it glow an abnormal silver._

_The symbols drawn across the stump begin to glow a bright red, shining brighter and brighter the longer the figures chanted. A look of pain begins to cross his face, his skin growing taunt and his eyes beginning to bulge out of his head. The air in his lungs was slowly being dragged out of him, slowly bring him to the edge of agony and not letting him go._

_The chanting got louder. The skin of his body was drawn so tight you could see all of his bones, clear as day. He is laying on the stump again, back arched, as a stream of vibrant blue light leaves his belly and makes its way into the air before entering the bodies surrounding him. He collapsed to the ground and as he looked on, he wasn’t 100% sure if he was alive anymore._

_He heard a growl coming from his right, a black wolf standing by his side with it’s ruby red eyes glaring, as much as a wolf could, at the people still surrounding his body. Its shoulder came right up to his hip. Its fur was a dark black with hints of light grey and white sprinkled through, allowing it to melt seamlessly into the shadows with a chance to, possibly, find it if it wanted you to._

_It growls at the figures as it creeps closer, making it’s way to his body. The circle of people break apart at the wolf’s arrival, whispering words to one another as they think of what to do. They didn’t know the wolf was attached to him, not that it matters now that his body is on the brink of death._

_The figures leave as the wolf huddles close to his body, its body curled protectively around him. He noses as his paper thin skin, whining in the back of its throat when he doesn’t respond properly, barely at all._

_They stay like that, the wolf curled around his body as he holds on to life by his fingernails. And when he takes his last breath, so does the wolf._

_And he wakes up._

°°°

Two months had passed and Stiles still couldn’t control his magic any better now than before when he was ignorant and floundering. His backyard—because he refused to practice in his house and potentially burn it to the ground—was riddled with patches of burned grass or craters, all from practice spells and attempts to release magic gone wrong.

His sessions with Deaton weren’t going any better either. The vet had been trying to get Stiles to do simple magic to no avail, the end result always being what was asked of him but bigger and more destructive. The fire extinguisher stashed under Deaton’s desk has gotten put to good use lately with how often Stiles manages to blow something up he wasn’t supposed to.

“Deaton, this is pointless.” They had just ended another training session that resulted in Scott getting third degree burns all over his chest and torso that took longer than the normal five minutes to heal. The perk of Scott being a werewolf—which are real which he should have known and really fits the human puppy that is Scott—was that he healed quickly from all of Stiles’ failed attempts at magic if he was close by. “I’m not getting any better. Actually, I’m pretty sure I’m getting worse, if that’s possible.”

Deaton was walking around the practice room, sweeping the extinguisher over the remaining flames on the floor. He’s never voiced anything but support at Stiles no matter how often he fucked up a spell or set something on fire, but Stiles was pretty sure he was just as sick of it as Stiles was.

“Stiles, you just need to practice a little more. This isn’t impossible but if your heart isn’t in the right place for this, it won’t work.”

“You don’t think that’s what I’m doing now? I want nothing more than to have this shit under control and not have to worry about making something explode just by touching it or passing out randomly throughout the day because my magic is too much for me.” Stiles moved so he was sitting on the floor, knees to his chest so he could hide his head. “I never asked for this. I just want to feel normal again, for fuck’s sake.”

Stiles was tired of feeling like a failure every time he couldn’t get the hang of something deemed “easy”. None of this was easy for him. The lying to his dad, the sneaking around, the nightmares that resulted in him saying awake for as long as he could to keep them away, it was all too much. He wished he could go back two months and have none of this happen to him. He wished he could make his life normal again.

“Nothing I try is working, I am a literal walking time bomb for something bad to happen. I’m having these nightmares that are so bad I rarely sleep. I’ve been lying to my dad and Melissa about where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing and I can see how much it hurts them when I do because they can tell I’m lying. I just, god, I just hate this all so much.”

The moment Stiles finished talking, Deaton was on him, squatting in front of him and trying to get his attention.

“What nightmares are you having, Stiles?” The look on Deaton’s face was one of concern, his eyes tracking Stiles as he waited for an answer.

“Really? That’s all you got from that, that I’m still having nightmares?” Stiles scoffed in disbelief because seriously?

“Stiles.” His tone was firm and clearly stated he didn’t have time for Stiles’ shit. “What nightmares.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and threw his legs out in front of him. “I’ve been having these nightmares every night, since I got home from the hospital and they’re all the same but still kind of different. It’s like I’m reliving that day in the woods two months ago. It usually happens in the weird third person point of view, with me off alone in the shadows watching all these things happen to me while still feeling everything. And it’s always the same people, or at least I think it is. They’re wearing these cloaks, these black cloaks with hoods so large they cover their faces. They really look like Dementors, straight out of Harry Potter.

“And they always end the same, no matter how they start. Always with me laid out alone, on the brink of death while these, these things just chant whatever it is they chant in whatever language they know until this wolf comes and drives them away. It’s huge, the wolf. Large and black with eyes so red they _glow_. And the figures, they’re scared of it because the moment it makes itself known, they run, and the wolf comes up to me to protect me. And I guess I die at the end of them because I wake up and it starts all over again the next night.”

Stiles sighed deeply and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. Rethinking of the shit his brain put him through at night was tiring, even more so than waking up after barely three hours of sleep thanks to the dreams.

He removed his hands from his face to find Deaton staring intently at him, a contemplative look on his face.

“Look, I don’t know what they mean and particularly, I don’t care. But between that and not getting anywhere with all this training and meditation and failed attempts at making my magic easier to control, I’m tired.”

Deaton took one more hard look at Stiles before standing on his feet again, moving to leave the room. Stiles, not wanting to be left alone, lifted  himself up and followed. Deaton had made it back to his office by the time he caught up, back to the door as he scanned his shelves for something.

“Ugh, can you please not give me another book bound in suspicious material full of stuff I’m never going to manage? It’s really discouraging.” Ever since they began their tumultuous and magic filled student teacher relationship, Deaton has been sending Stiles home with tomes and manilla folders full of readings for him. He said they would further his understanding of his magic and what he would be able to do, eventually, and the more information he had on the how and why would help him center his magic and himself. So far, no such luck.

Deaton pulls a thin, white binder off the shelf in front of him, flipping through it quickly before turning and handing it to Stiles. “Stiles, I want you to go home and read this. I think what’s in that binder might help you, truly help you. But only if you want it to.” With that, Deaton walked out of his office and towards the kennel section of the clinic to check on the animals.

Stiles stared at the direction Deaton went and then to the binder in his hands before flipping it over to read the first page.

_“Familiars: What They Are and How They Help”_

Interesting.

°°°

The moment Stiles got home, he locked himself in his room to read over the papers Deaton gave him. Majority of it was in English, a rarity with most of the books he gets burdened with from the vet.

Stiles looked over the title page again. “Familiars, huh? What’s that all about?” Flipping to the next page, he began to read.

“Throughout millennia, for as long as the power of magic has flown through the veins of the most powerful people, there has always been a presence at their side in times of dire strife and great happiness; the familiar. Be it a brand new witch with shaky control over their magic or a veteran magic user, a familiar was always a constant at all their sides.

“The familiar, in relation to witches and other magic users or welders, is an animal or spirit (animal-like or humanoid in appearance) that is spiritually bound to the witch, allowing them to be a great assistant for the remainder of the witch’s life. Most magic users’ familiars are animals, or animal-like spirits, as they are the beings closest to nature, a major component of all magic, allowing the witch to have a closer connection to the earth as well, though they can be humans or humanoid spirits as well and do their job just as well.”

Stiles quickly put the book down on his bed and launched himself at his desk, searching for a pen and paper. Ever since this whole magic thing started, he has filled notebooks and binders full of notes on everything he’s learned, anything that could possibly help him transition into the witching world smoothly and make his magic easier to use and control. So far nothing has worked but he still likes to write things down for later, still holding on to the slight hope that something useful will come from this shit show eventually, no matter how discouraging everything else is. .

“A familiars primary job is to assist their witch in all their endeavours, be it a needed boost of magic for a spell, a force to ground the witch’s magic, or someone to protect them and their magic in case of emergency. Since familiars are bound to their witches (see page 49 for summoning and binding spells) they are considered a magic users greatest strength and weakness. They have the power to take all of  their witch’s power and use it to eliminate a threat to them if the witch is otherwise greatly hurt or unable to do so themselves. If the familiar is a spirit, they have the ability to travel into the spirit world to do the bidding of the witch in the other realm or to affect something in the real world from their position in the spirit world.

“The greatest downfall of a familiar-witch connection is the aftermath if anything severe were to happen to either one. The bonding between a witch and a familiar is an extremely strong and powerful one and requires that both parties want the bond to happen to the fullest extent as it is a lifetime long bond. Many have documented that the bond between witch and familiar is almost as strong as a (were)wolf and their mate, the strongest bond there is in the magic world.”

Stiles continued making his way through the book, stopping only when he got to a blank page with nothing more than the word “Spells” printed in the middle. Opening a fresh page in his notebook, he begins to read the spells, rejoicing quietly when he notices that they’re translated in English and he won’t have to fend for himself with Latin translations.

Majority of the book contained Level I spells, beginner spells that most witches should be able to do and master, no matter how recently they came into their magic. Stiles was tempted to try a few of them out but shot that thought process down as quick as it appeared. He didn’t want today to get any shittier than it already was so he just wrote down the ingredients he’d need and bookmarked the spells.

As he continued flipping through the binder, he noticed that the condition of the pages began to change, clearly the original pages of the book instead of the reprints that were placed in the beginning. The language also changed from the English translation back to the original Latin, causing Stiles to groan internally at the thought of translating the remaining spells so he could understand them.

The page in front of him, through he didn’t understand a single word of it without his Latin-English dictionary, was very obviously a spell.

“Ut Uocare Daemonion. To Summon a Demon. Why would I want to summon a demon?” Stiles looked down at his notes, about to scratch out what he wrote in his attempt to translate it—he really didn’t want to accidentally summon a demon, especially with his wonky magic—when he noticed the page number he wrote down from earlier in the book. Page forty-nine. That was the page that held the summoning and binding spells for a familiar.

A quick check at the page he was currently on showed that it was, in fact, page forty-nine. This was the familiar summoning spell.

Stiles hesitated, unsure if he should even attempt to translate it. He knew that this could be what he needed to actually get a grip on his magic. Help him ground himself and his anxiety, allow him to actually grip and use the magic that is always vibrating under his skin. He’d stop causing things to explode that shouldn’t be, he’d be able to protect himself and his family and maybe start living a normal life again, as normal as it can be when he can use magic.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles quickly translated the instructions to the spell before clearing the floor of his room and grabbing everything he would need for the ritual. Throwing the rug on his floor to the side, Stiles placed white candles at the five points of the pentagram drawn out on the hardwood of the floor. In front of him, he quickly lit and smoked out a smudge stick before he turned towards the north and lit the candles in clockwise order.

Once all the candles are lit and the stick is smoking steadily, Stiles stood in the middle of the image on his floor, curved knife in hand, before he took a deep breath and moved the knife across the curved line on his palm.

Turning his hand over, Stiles let the blood drip from his hand onto the floor, pooling into a puddle at his feet. Lifting the paper with the spell, he begins to recite:

 

 **Per** **a sole, et luna**

**Per superos et fato**

**Mitte me ancoram**

**Per fortitudo mea cor, et anima**

**Mitte me socium nam a vita**

**Et respondete mihi**

As Stiles said the spell, he thought of an animal he’d want to keep him safe for the rest of his life, his mind instantly going to the black wolf that has been ingrained in the corner of his psyche since this whole thing started. The wolf was there by his side when he first wandered the woods all those months ago and he’d been a solid presence of safety in all of his nightmares since.

As he got to the last part of the spell he spoke loudly, his voice sure and strong as the foreign language rolled off his tongue with ease. As he watched the last few drops of blood leave his hand, the flames on the candles began to flicker extremely high in the air, higher than should be physically possible.

The smoke from the smudge stick began to curl around Stiles’ ankles, getting thicker and more opaque the more time passed. Soon the smoke began to form into something tangible, the shape still indecipherable but he knew it was at least _something_.

More smoke wafted out and the figure continued to form until it became something. Well, actually, someone. A naked someone.

Standing in front of him, extremely naked and extremely wet, was the most attractive man Stiles has ever seen in his nineteen years on this earth. He’s about the same height as Stiles, possibly an inch or two shorter, with thick black hair on his head spiked up into a mohawk with shampoo. His eyes, the ones staring at Stiles in complete and utter shock, were some stupid colour of green and brown with flecks of yellow and blue in there somewhere as well and were framed by thick and expressive eyebrows that were currently furrowed in confusion. His strong jaw was covered by dark stubble that looks soft to the touch and his lips were pointed down at the corners in a frown but still looked extremely kissable.

His shoulders were broad and they led down to muscular arms and large, veiny hands. Stiles’ eyes drifted across his chest and down his abs, jumping quickly over his dick because just no, and over his strong thighs. He was dripping water all over Stiles’ floor but he found that he didn’t really care.

Stiles jerked his eyes back up to his face to find the other guy glaring at him. Like, a legit death glare that would have most likely had Stiles shitting his pants in any other situation but he couldn’t take it as seriously when Mr. Grumpy Brows had a shampoo mohawk.

Stepping a bit closer to the guy, Stiles stuck his hand out to shake. “Hi, I’m Stiles Stilinski.”

Brows glared at Stiles harder, eyebrows getting even angrier if that was even possible. Shifting so he was standing taller, his arms across his chest, he growled, “Where am I.”

Stiles took a step back, heart kicking up a notch in fear. “Uhm, you’re in my bedroom? I was, I was doing a spell to summon a familiar? Because I’m a witch, I guess, and I read that their like a magic users must have especially if they’re like me and their magic is super out of control. So, yeah. I was doing that thing. And instead of an animal like normal, I was really hoping to get a wolf like the one that’s been protecting me in my dreams dude, that would’ve been awesome god, I got you. A human. Which isn’t bad! Humans can totally be familiars too, no discrimination here, but I was super hoping for a wolf. But you’re cool too. Humans rule.”

Stiles shut his mouth as fast as he could. He was rambling and he hated it and, apparently, so did Brows over there because he glared at Stiles even harder as he talked if that was even possible. He took a step closer to Stiles and growled out some words again.

“You’re a witch.”

It wasn’t phrased like a question but Stiles nodded in confirmation anyway.

“Send me back.”

Stiles was pretty sure this guy didn’t know how to say anything without growling it at someone which was just rude.

“Uhm, sorry buddy but no can do. I don’t know how.”

“You’re a witch. Figure it out.”

“Did you miss the part of my ramblefest where I said I wasn’t good at this whole magic thing? That’s why I summoned you. But, of course the first spell I do that actually works, I get an asshole as the result.” Stiles scoffed and rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he stared back at the grump. Who was currently turning his back to Stiles, while also giving him an eyeful of magnificent ass Jesus, to rummage through his drawers. He pulled out a pair of Stiles’ sweatpants and pulled them up over his hips before turning to look at him again, glare firmly in place.

“Uh,” Stiles began, hands dropping down to his side. “Why are you wearing my pants?”

“Because I’m going home. And since you can’t send me back they way I came, I’d rather not walk home naked.” He walked towards Stiles’ bedroom door, shoving against his shoulder on the way. Door knob in hand, Brows turned back to look at Stiles.

“And I’m not your familiar.”

Stiles gaped as he stalked out the room, slamming the bedroom and front door in his wake. He stared at the door for a few extra seconds before he moved to clean up the mess on his floor and put the rug back where it belonged. He was exhausted after the spell, probably from the blood loss but definitely from the encounter with Brows, and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and pray for the dreamless night he knew he wasn’t going to get.

°°°

_When he wakes, he’s standing alone in a field. This isn’t like his other dreams where he watches himself from the outside He’s experiencing everything first hand this time and it’s confusing and new._

_He jerks his head around the field, trying to find something in the vast expanse of nothingness that is in front of him. The sun is directly above him, shining bright and hot, causing his vision to go white around the edges._

_Determined to find something in nothing, he begins to walk. There are no paths around so he heads straight and tries to stay in that direction for as long as possible._

_He walked and walked, the scenery around him steadily staying the same, making it impossible to tell if he even moved from the place he began. The sun got hotter as time passed but stayed in the same spot, making it impossible for him to even attempt to determine the time of day._

_He wanted to give up. There was nothing here, no one coming out of hidden trees in the distance. He began to turn around and go back the way he came—or at least the way he thought he came—when something in his peripheral sight catches his attention. Turning to his right, he gazes upon a dark spot in the distance, too far away to determine what it is but completely out of place in the empty field._

_He moves to walk towards the spot, curiosity peaked. He moves and moves and doesn’t seem to get any closer to the spot. He began to run, hoping that would work. It didn’t._

_Frustrated, he throws his hands in the air and shouts. Angry tears are streaming down his cheeks and his hands are shaking. He drops to his knees, hands going to his hair and yanking. He should just give up. This isn’t like the other dreams. He won’t get anywhere, it’s pointless to even continue to try._

_His head is down, fists pressed into his knees and he doesn’t hear the soft sound of paws stepping on lush grass. Tears are still falling from his eyes, hot and salty and he can’t get them to stop no matter how hard he tries. But maybe he isn’t trying at all._

_There’s a tongue on his cheek, warm and wet and lapping up the tears. He jerks in surprise, not expecting it in the slightest. In front of him is a wolf,_ **_his_ ** _wolf. The wolf was the dark spot in the distance._

_It pushes its snout into his chest, a pitiful whine escaping its throat and echoing throughout the field. Pushing its snout once more, it begins to lick at his face again, trying to stop the tears that are still, steadily, falling from his eyes._

_Closing his eyes tightly, he throws his arms around the wolf’s neck and hold on. He breathes the scent of its fur deeply into his lungs before pulling back to look into its eyes. They’re red, bright red, but it doesn’t scare him. It does the opposite, makes him feel safer than he has in forever._

_With one last deep breath in, he moves to stand on his feet, the wolf soon following suit and standing with its head held eye. It bumps its shoulder against his him, making him look at it again. It has a goofy smile on its face, tongue lolling out as he pants slightly._

_Smiling back, he looks ahead of himself. Squaring his shoulders, he begins to walk. With his wolf by his side._

_°°°_

When Stiles woke up the next morning, the memories of the night before still fresh in his head, he truly contemplated not going to Deaton’s ever again and just letting life—and his magic—take  its course and do what it wanted.

In the past two months, he hadn’t managed to get a single thing about magic correct, always botching spells and setting things on fire, always being a general hazard to everyone around him. Yet, the one thing he actually accomplished, the one thing he got right and thought could actually help him be better, adapt better, didn’t want a single thing to do with him.

His brain kept flickering between the same two things, the look of utter hatred and disgust directed at him and a voice, deep and gravelly as it growled out the words “I’m not your familiar.” The same two thoughts in Stiles’ head as he made  his way to Deaton’s clinic and actually came face to face with his thoughts again.

Standing in the waiting area of the clinic, muscular arms placed over his chest like a piece of armour, was none other than Mr. Grumpy Brows himself and, god, Stiles didn’t even know they name of the guy causing him so much stress.

Scott was behind the receptionist’s desk, chatting at the guy like they were the bestest of friends, no matter the fact that it seemed like not a single word he said was being paid attention to. Scott hadn’t yet noticed Stiles as he stopped before the door of the clinic, hand frozen in the air as he took in the hard glare directed at him from Brows, who turned to look at him the moment he came in sight of the.

Steeling himself, he flung open the door, finally catching Scott’s attention and earning a megawatt smile in return. Brows seemed to glare at him harder after taking in Scott’s reaction to seeing him.

“Stiles, hey!” Scott moved around the desk and pulled Stiles into a quick hug. “You’re early so Deaton isn’t here yet but you can throw your stuff in his office while you wait.” Nodding quickly, Stiles disappeared around the wall dividing the front of the clinic from the operating stations, tossing his backpack into one of the empty chairs facing Deaton’s desk before returning to the front with Scott.

“Stiles! I gotta introduce you to someone, man.” Grabbing him by his shoulders, Scott maneuvered Stiles so he was standing directly in front of him behind the desk. “Stiles, meet Derek Hale. He’s my alpha and a generally awesome guy. Derek, meet Stiles, residential newbie of all things that creep and bump in the night.”

Stiles had been staring at his feet throughout Scott’s introduction but quickly flicked his eyes up to Brows’— _Derek_ his name was Derek—face, seeing the scowl still firmly in place, before turning his body slightly to face Scott, causing his hands to fall off his shoulders.

Grimacing slightly, he looked Scott in the eye and said, “Uh, funny enough, we’ve actually met before.”  He shrugged at Scott’s confused puppy face, shoving his hands deep in his pockets.

“You know what, I’m just going to wait for Deaton in his office. I’ll see you later, Scott. Derek.”

Stiles shouldered past Scott as he ran into Deaton’s office, slamming the door before he leaned against it and slid to the floor. Bringing his knees to his chest, he thumped his head against the door and sighed heavily. Of course the one person he didn’t want to see, the cause of his drop in self esteem and general shitty mood, would be the first person he sets his eyes on.

Stiles is still sat in front of the office door when he feels the handle shake and someone attempt to push open the door.

“Stiles,” Deaton’s voice rang out loudly from behind the door. “If you could kindly move so I could get into my office, that would be much appreciated.” Stiles rolled his eyes before heaving himself off of the floor. He yanks the door open and stares at Deaton as he shouldered past him and towards his desk.

“Good morning Mr. Stilinski, you’re earlier than normal for our session, I’m surprised.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t sleep well last night. Woke up early.”

“Ah, well, make yourself useful and gather the supplied we’ll be needing for today please.” Deaton looked up at the entryway to his office, a calculating smile on his face as he acknowledged whoever was there. “Ah, Mr. Hale. I’m glad you could join us today.”

Stiles froze as he heard Deaton address Derek. Why was he still around?

“Why am I here, Deaton?” Derek was standing at the door, his face pinched in anger as he stared at Stiles. “Why is he here?”

“Please, Mr. Hale, sit down and we’ll talk.” Deaton motioned Derek to one of the chairs in front of his desk. “You as well, Mr. Stilinski. This is about you as well.”

Stiles shuffled his feet towards the chair, throwing himself into it and slumping forward as a way to distance himself from Derek as much as possible but still sneak glances at him sparingly. Derek sat ramrod straight in the chair, hands on his knees in a white knuckled grip. He looked like he was prey in front of the biggest predator known to man which was pretty damn ironic considering he was a freaking Alpha werewolf. He was staring in Deaton’s direction but not at him, his glare directed at the wall of books behind the man’s head.

“I know both of you are wondering why you’re here together, but I can assure you it is for the greater good. But first, let us begin with introductions. Even though I think the both of you have already met.

“Derek, this is Stiles Stilinski. He recently came into his magical powers. He wandered around a forest 300 miles away for days before finally expelling it all, making himself a beacon and attracting anyone and anything aware of magic wanting more power, and being knocked unconscious. Though he is untrained, no fault of his own, he is still one of the most powerful young witches I have encountered in my lifetime and I know he will be able to do great things eventually.” He turned to face Stiles now, hands clasped in front of him. “Stiles, this is Derek Hale, Alpha of the Hale Pack that protects Beacon Hills, Beacon County, and about five other cities in neighbouring counties. Head of one of the most powerful and influential packs in the world and coming from an extremely long bloodline of powerful wolves.”

Deaton leaned against his desk and stared at the both of them, calculating eyes watching for their reactions to his words. Derek didn’t react in any way besides gripping on his knees harder, nails digging in deeper and deeper the more Deaton talked. Stiles, however, was intrigued. From the moment he learned there was more out there in the world than meets the eye, he was curious, researching anything he could find about the supernatural and trying his damndest to filter out what was nothing more than myth based on wild imaginations and myth based on fact. His favourite things were werewolves, how they were creatures based firmly on the idea of pack and family, that that was what was most important to them, no matter what. Stiles evaluated Derek differently with the new information but still couldn’t properly understand why he hated him so much. Did he seem like an enemy maybe?

“Deaton.” Stiles could see Derek’s jaw grind down as he grunted the words out. “Why am I here? With _him_?”

“Ever since Mr. Stilinski came into his powers, he’s been having these...dreams. From what’s he’s told me, it seems to be his brains attempt to come to terms with what happened to him after his magic released itself and made him a beacon of power. Based on what I know about the dreams he’s told me about having, I believe that Stiles almost died that first night and not from his magic even though that took a major toll on him as well. I believe he was found in those woods after he passed out, he did send up a pretty big flare of magic for all to see, and someone tried to take whatever remaining magic he had. They tried to take his power and they nearly succeeded, too.”

“I still don’t see what this has to do with me, Deaton.” Derek’s shoulders were pulled up close to his ears, his back tense and his hands in fists resting on his knees. He was getting tenser and tenser the more time passed, looking on the verge of fleeing if Deaton said anything else that wasn’t a definitive answer to his question.

“When Stiles told me he was having dreams, he also told me that they all ended the same way. How was that, Stiles?” Deaton cut his eyes to Stiles’ face and motioned for him to answer the question.

“The wolf. It always ended with the wolf coming to try and stop whoever had me from hurting me anymore. It’s big, huge actually, with black fur and red eyes and even though it never really managed to save me in time ever, it always stayed with me until I died, without fail.” Stiles bit at the skin around his nails, nervously flickering his eyes from Deaton to Derek and back again. Pushing himself up so he wasn’t hunched in the chair anymore, he leaned forward on his elbows and continued talking. “But like, I don’t see what that has to do with me or Derek being here or anything at all really so. What’s going on?”

“Stiles, the book I gave you the other day, what was it about?”

“Familiars…”

“And from that book, you learned what exactly familiars were and how they could help you correct?”

Stiles didn’t like where Deaton was going with this. “Yes.” From the corner of his eye, Stiles saw Derek’s fist tighten more than humanly possible, slight pools of blood forming from where his nails—no, claws—dug into his skin. “So?”

“And from that book, you found certain spells, correct? Spells allowing you to summon your familiar to you?”

Stiles saw where Deaton was going with this game of 20 Questions and hated it. He turned his head to look at Derek only to find the older man staring at him already, eyes hard and mouth frowning as he waited for Stiles to answer.

“Yeah. And I did one of the spells, so what? Yeah, Derek ended up in the middle of my room instead of quadruped animal like I assumed I was going to get. So what. What’s your point here?”

“So you’re aware that Mr. Hale is your familiar, correct?”

Stiles scoffed and rolled his eyes skyward. “Nice try man but I think not. Tried it last night and he ran away with the words “I’m not your familiar.” staying around longer than he did.” Stiles rolled his head so he was staring at Deaton again. “Are we done because I have better things to do than being interrogated.”

The look Deaton gave him was unsettling. His hand was covering his mouth as he squinted his eyes in their direction, as if he was trying to dissect them and probe at their brain to better understand their species. Derek was still a statue beside him but he seemed to get marginally less tense when Stiles finished talking.

Sitting up and sighing deeply, Deaton took in both of the men before him before he started talking again. “What I am about to say, I am only going to say it once and I want the both of you to listen to me clearly, okay? And I do not care if you agree with what I am about to say or not, it has already happened and there is no other way to go from this but forwards. Stiles, the wolf you remember from when you first came into your magic and from your dreams, it’s Derek. Him in his full shift, a power that is extremely rare in werewolves but surprisingly common in his family and pack.

“He’s your familiar, no matter what he says or feels on the matter. You two are bound together in a way I have never seen before, bound before you even met. The only reason that spell worked and sent Derek to you is because you guys are bound. That was not a spell to find new witches new familiars, that was a spell to help a witch find the familiar in which they are already bound to when they are lost.” Deaton turns to look at Derek, ignoring the way the man has his teeth bared in a grimace/growl and how hard his claws are digging into his skin. “Derek, I’m not 100% sure what you have against Mr. Stilinski or the idea of being his familiar, but what’s happened has happened and you cannot back away from your responsibilities. I know this is not what you wanted, I doubt it’s what Stiles wanted either, but it has happened so you must deal with it.” With one last look at Derek, Deaton nodded before leaning back to rifle through his desk. “I believe we’re done here so, Derek if you want to leave-” Deaton’s sentence was cut off by the sound of his office door slamming shut as Derek fled as fast as he could.

Sighing heavily, Deaton placed a book in front of Stiles and shook his head. “I’m not surprised, really. Anyway, Mr. Stilinski, let’s continue with our lesson, shall we?”

°°°

After practice with Deaton, Stiles found himself parked in front of a block of apartments on his way to talk to Derek.

After Derek left the office, Deaton explained more about familiars and the effect one would have on his magic and his learning to manage it.

“Familiars have always been believed to be an extension of a witch’s soul and their magic. They have the ability to tap into the witch’s magic and take some if it is needed to stabilize the witch and the magic. They are considered to be and treated like family because they are so important to the grand scheme of things. The witch is also able to take any power their familiar may possess, especially if the familiar is another supernatural creature such as yours.”

“But there are also dangers. The two of you are already bound together, something that is extremely interesting since I know for a fact you two have not gone through the binding ritual for a witch and their familiar, you both will experience part or all of what full bound pairs feel. That means, when they get too intense, you can tune into each other’s emotions, something that could come in handy if you were not together in times of duress. But that could also work at your disadvantage because you can also feel each other’s pain, something people could use to their advantage if they knew. Added to that, if you die, Derek dies. And vice versa. You two are tied together in the most intimate of ways, be careful.”

From there, Deaton continued to talk about what to expect now that he had a familiar—which was the farthest thing from the truth no matter what Deaton said, Derek _hated_ him—and how it would eventually benefit him and his magic and even Derek and his pack.

So here he was, at Deaton’s persuasion, standing in front of Derek Hale’s building to attempt a slight friendship between the two of them.Truly, he was frightened. He knew Derek didn’t like him, most likely based off of some preconceived opinion of him he had without even getting to know him first. Stiles was willing to try, however. He thought Derek was a pretty cool guy once you got past the glare and the brows, and attractive as hell. He didn’t mind having him as a familiar, especially if it meant hanging around his hotness constantly while getting better at magic. It was a win-win for him.

Taking a deep breath to ground himself, Stiles shut off his Jeep and made his way into the building and up to Derek’s floor. When he finally made it to Derek’s door, he paused. He was scared. He knew that Derek wasn’t going to react well to seeing Stiles at his home, his _den_ , but he was worried that Derek’s reaction might be even worse than it was last night based on everything that has already happened today.

Taking a deep breath and exhaling it slowly, Stiles raised his hand and knocked on the thick metal door in front of him and waited. And waited. And waited some more. He moved to knock again when the door slide open to reveal three people behind the it, staring at him. Two boys and a girl. Both boys were about the same height while the girl was only a few inches shorter than the both of them. One of the guys was dark-skinned and muscular, his whole demeanor calm and nonthreatening as he stood farther into the loft and stared at Stiles with bored brown eyes. The other boy had curly blonde, just like the girl, and a slender frame, blue eyes piercing as he stared at Stiles from his perch against the doorframe. The girl was the most threatening of all which was slightly disconcerting with her curly blonde hair up in pigtails. Her brown eyes were glaring at Stiles, almost hard enough to put Derek’s glare to shame. Her hands were on her waist, hips cocked to one side as if she was posing to intimidate the shit out of Stiles.

“Uhm,” Stiles swallowed loudly and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans so he wouldn’t fidget under their stares. “Is Derek around?”

“No, he isn’t.” The girl glared at him harder as she answered him and the boy against the doorframe began to smirk, making Stiles skin crawl when he made eye contact with him. The boy in the back didn’t move. “What do you want?”

“I uh, I just wanted to talk to him about some...things.” Stiles rubbed his hand against the back of his neck, feeling his face and ears flush a bright red at their intense gazes. “But if he’s not here, I’ll just go. Can you tell him Stiles came by to see him? Thanks.” Stiles turned around and began walking back towards the stairwell when he felt a hand grip his shoulder tight.

“Wait! Don’t go anywhere.” He turns to find the girl with her hand on his shoulder, a bright smile on her face. “Derek should be back any minute now, actually. Why don’t you come inside and wait for him. We won’t bite, I promise.”

Slightly scared and confused, Stiles looked back to gage the two boys’ reaction to Stiles being invited into the loft but was met with an indifferent look and a creepy chesire smile which was probably the best he was going to get from those two.

“Uhm, okay. Sure.” Turning back, he followed the girl into the loft. She motioned for him to take a seat and he found himself on the couch in between both of the guys.

“So. How exactly do you guys know Derek?” Stiles asked, fidgeting more when his words got met with nothing more than stares.

“He’s our alpha.” The girl came out of the kitchen with a glass in her hand. She placed it in front of Stiles before climbing into the chair beside the couch. “I’m Erica,” She pointed to the blond on Stiles right. “Guy on your right is Isaac and on your left is Boyd.” She motioned to the dark-skinned boy on his left before motioning at him, a vicious smile on her face. “And you’re Stiles.”

Stiles nodded at Erica in confirmation. “Yes, yes I am. So you guys, you’re werewolves. You’re Derek’s wolves. His pack.” Stiles continued to nod to himself as he talked. Erica and Isaac were staring at him and smiling as if he were a an animal they didn’t quite understand but enjoyed playing with nonetheless. Boyd still looked completely unbothered by everything. “So, that means you guys know Scott, he said Derek was his alpha as well.”

Isaac nodded his head and spoke for the first time since Stiles showed up at the door. “Yeah, Delgado’s one of us as well. We’re just one big happy wolf family with Derek as our growly, yet loving, dad.” Isaac rolled his eyes before leaning back further into the couch and throwing his feet on the coffee table.

“So Stiles,” Erica started, leaning over the arm of the chair to get closer to him. “How exactly do you know Derek and Scott? We never got the full story out of Scott, he just one day started rambling about the ‘best guy in the world, ever’ and how his life finally felt complete.” She smiled at him, nostrils flared, as she waited for an answer.

“Uhm well, I met Scott at Deaton’s. I had to talk to him about something and Scott was at the front desk and we just started talking and, yeah. He’s like the nicest guy ever so it’s no surprise we hit it off so well, I’m just surprised how much he doesn’t mind my rambling. Like, it takes a strong person to deal with my talking when I get started.” Stiles suddenly cut off, face pinking as he noticed he was rambling. Erica was smiling her smile at him, motioning for him to continue talking. “And Derek, well, that’s complicated. But I’m pretty sure he hates my guts.” Looking away from Erica, he picked up the glass that was in front of him and began gulping down water so he wouldn’t talk anymore.

Boyd must have taken some pity on Stiles because he ended up sighing deeply and turning on the TV, volume placed high enough to make talking difficult between them.

They were thirty minutes into the latest episode of Property Brothers that was on the DVR when the front door of the loft rolled open, only Stiles turning his head to see who it was.

Scott was the first person through the doorway. He kept looking back to talk to Derek, who followed behind him closely with his eyes trained on Stiles from the moment he walked in.

Scott turned around and saw Stiles, a huge smile breaking across his face as he rushed over to him to hug him. “Stiles! Hey buddy, second time today see you, this is awesome.”

“What are you doing here?” Derek stood behind Scott’s shoulder, a glare aimed at Stiles.

Stiles pulled himself out of Scott’s arms, an awkward and tense air settling around everyone as they watched the two of them interact, waiting for Stiles to answer Derek’s question.

“I was hoping I could talk to you, actually? Like, I know we got off on a bad foot and things haven’t been that great between us in the past few hours but I really think we need to talk. This thing could be good for the both of us, Derek.” Stiles began to play with the sleeve of his overshirt. He was scared Derek wasn’t going to hear him out, that he was just going to tell him to fuck off and never come near him or his pack ever again which Stiles so did not want. He was already close as he could be to Scott, convinced they were platonic soulmates and meant to be together in the world and every other world there was—they were their personal Shawn Spencer and Burton Guster except Scott was Hispanic, not Black. The other betas have even grown on his as well. He appreciated the way Boyd preferred to watch and learn instead of interact from the start, but was still a pretty nice person to be around regardless. And no matter how creepy and slightly bad-touch the two of them were, Isaac and Erica provided a certain amount of entertainment for everyone with their ridiculous jokes and observations. They were cool people and Stiles wasn’t 100% sure he’d be able to give them up because Derek refused to talk to him, no matter how short of a time he’s know them all.

Derek stared at him for a few extra seconds before sighing deeply and motioning for Stiles to follow him deeper into the loft. “Fine, we can talk. Come on.” He made a move towards the spiral stairs in the far left corner of the loft. When he reached the top of the staircase, he went to open the first door on the right, holding it open for Stiles before closing it behind the two of them and flipping on the light near the door.

The room they were in was a bedroom, Derek’s if Stiles truly had to guess. There was a slightly distant feel to the whole room, as if he didn’t want to truly place down any roots anywhere, not even the place he was the most vulnerable. The walls were painted a bright white but the dark blackout curtains over the windows made the room seem darker than it was. There was a huge California King bed in the middle of the room with dark blue bedding thrown over it. There was also a dark wood wardrobe near the window and a small bookcase filled with a few things and not much else. It was kind of depressing to Stiles, how the most personal room was so impersonal for Derek.

“What did you want to talk about, Stiles?” Derek was propped up against the bedroom door, arms crossed over his chest.

Stiles took a deep breath, looked Derek directly in the eyes and did what he did best. He talked.

“Okay, well, I know the way we met and the way everything has happened so far hasn’t been the best, I mean. I summoned you to my house in the middle of the night naked which was a complete accident I assure you, but it obviously wasn’t the best introduction we could have had. And then I tried to force onto you the idea that you’re my familiar, _why you’re still naked_ , and it was just a horrible situation all around. And then at Deaton’s how he talked at you like you had no choice in the matter, which, I mean, you don’t but that’s besides the point. The point is, this whole situation has been really shitty so far but I really think that if we try, it could be god. For the both of us. And I want to try. So, how about we start over, yeah?”

Stiles took a step close to Derek, hand stretched out as if to shake. “Hi, my name is Stiles Stilinski, I am 19 years old and I am a witch. Or, well, a witch in training because I’m not that in control of my powers yet so I really suck. But that’s where you come in! Hopefully. See, I did this spell and it was apparently supposed to be used to find my lost familiar and bring them back to me which I think is ridiculous that it wasn’t labelled as such but I digress. Anyway, I do the spell thinking it would bring me a new familiar to bond with and everything seemed to be going according to plan, I think I’m finally getting the cool ass wolf that’s been protecting me in my dreams in real life, but that’s not what appears to me in that circle. Or, well, it was but just in a different form at that moment. See, what appeared to me in that circle wasn’t a wolf but you Derek Hale, in all your naked glory. And oh, was I scared for my life in that moment.

“You looked like you were going to murder me in cold blood the moment I began to talk, no matter how confused you were and how much you looked like you wanted all the answers instantly. And truly, I wish I could’ve given you a better answer than ‘You’re my familiar’ that night but whatever. And then at Deaton’s, god, the way he kept pushing it and stuff no matter what, it sucked and I’m sorry we had to sit through that. But after you left, Deaton told me some more about what this familiar bond entails and, if you’d be willing, I’d love to tell you about it and see how we could make this work for us.”

Stiles’ hand was still up during the whole of his rant and he was starting to feel his upper arm burn from holding it up for so long. Derek looked at him for what felt like a ridiculously long time, as if he was completely replaying all that Stiles said in an attempt to decipher it. Finally, Derek sighed and pushed himself off the door, coming closer to Stiles and giving his hand a quick shake before dropping it.

“Fine, I’ll listen to what you have to say. But this is between me and you only. I don’t want to do anything that involves my pack. They’ve been through enough.” Stiles was nodding in agreement before Derek has even finished getting the words out of his mouth, making a move to sit on the bed and take out all the information of familiars he got from talking to Deaton.

“I completely understand and that is not a problem at all. This is a need to know thing and only we need to know. Got it.” With that, Stiles motioned for Derek to sit next to him so he could explain everything to him, and he did. Sat side by side, Stiles began to pull out pieces of information and handing them over for Derek to read as he explained what he knew of their early familiar bond and how it will affect them. He told Derek about the effects the bond has on the both of them with the advantage of each other’s powers but the downside of them sharing injuries and the fact that if one of them died the other died as well.

He went over the ways they could potentially strengthen their bond and be able to do far more than just share powers. He talked about the effect Derek would have on Stiles and his magic and practice routines they could do so Stiles could be a better witch.

They sat beside each other for hours, together learning everything they could about how their lives were going to change now that they were bound and it wasn’t horrible. Stiles felt as if he was seeing a different side of Derek, a side he believed very few got to see and appreciate. But he appreciated it. He really, really did.

°°°

_He opens his eyes and all he sees is blue. The colour is surrounding him, acting as a force field between him and whatever else is there._

_He walks, not able to see much in front of him since everything is blue, making it hard to differentiate between what is what, but he walks. He feels his way in between trees and bushes, trips over rocks and stray roots, but he manages. He manages until he ends up in front of a burned out shell of a home, the blue film disappearing from around him instantly as he stared at it.._

_He can see the house for what it used to be, a beautiful manor filled to the brim with love and happiness and family. He can see little children running around in the woods that act as the yard, hiding behind trunks and leaves and in dug out holes in the trunks, but never going to far to be unseen or unheard. He can see cousins and brother and sisters, all around his age, hiding away from the little kids and from the adults, trying to form their own little world as teenagers. He sees couples looking as in love as humanly possible as they dance through rooms, kisses exchanged with such sweet reverence it causes an ache in his chest even though he isn’t sure as to why._

_He walks closer to the house. Walks as close as he can get without touching the things he knows are no longer there but he can feel. He watches as fathers pick up their daughters and sons, depositing kisses all over their faces as they laugh and squeal and try to run away. He watches as mothers hold onto the faces of their older children to make sure they_ hear _what is being said to them, to make sure they truly understand. He watches as a family are brought together by love and joy and the essence of life running through them all, clear as day._

_His chest hurts, right where he knows his heart to be. He rubs at the spot, attempting to rub out the pain to no avail. Sitting on the ground in close to the front porch, he continues to watch. He watches until he can feel tears falling from his eyes and rolling down his cheeks._

_He feels a weight on his thigh and he looks down to see his wolf, it body laid out beside him with the full weight of its head in his lap. With his wolf close he feels better, less like watching the scene of life is causing his heart to break repeatedly and more like it’s a memory for him to cherise and replay for the rest of his life._

_Looking down, he sees sadness in the wolf’s eyes, almost as if he knew what was happening in front of them and it was something he lost from his life. There were tears in its eyes, he could see them shining brightly from being unshed._

_He moved to lay down on the ground, the wolf’s body pressed tightly against his has he held it close and told it it was alright to cry. That he understood the pain he was feeling in his heart and it was okay to feel it but even better to not dwell on it. That the people in that house wouldn’t want someone to be suffering and holding in pain, they would want them to be happy and healthy and in love with those around them._

_He told the wolf all of this, repeated the facts again and again until he felt the body against his go limp and begin to cry as much as a wolf truly could._

_He was beginning to drift off into something resembling sleep when he felt the wolf shift against him, coarse fur shifting until it was smooth skin under his hands._

_°°°_

Stiles and Derek had entered something resembling a tentative friendship in the months they had been spending together since the ritual debacle. They had formed some sort of routine between the two of them, days they would go to Deaton’s office and follow his instructions as he attempted to better understand their bond and strengthen it at the same time, and days they would hang out by themselves to try and work without Deaton’s calculating eyes watching their every move. And those days were always the best for Stiles.

They usually always happened after Stiles’ magic training days with Deaton, him worn out and exhausted from trying to work his magic in a way he’s never done before, no matter how much control he finally has over it now that Derek was playing a constant in his life. Deaton always had the tendency to work Stiles until he was shaking and panting for air, his magic feeling like an overworked muscles under his skin. He’d leave the clinic cursing Deaton’s name, then make his way to Derek’s loft and they’d work on whatever they had planned that day, be it actual witch-familiar things or just hanging out with the pack or alone.

Derek was a good friend when you got past the glares and the eyebrows and he allowed himself to show that he actually cared. He had a large heart and did what he could to be the Alpha his pack needed when they needed authority and discipline but also the comforting shoulder to cry on when they simply needed a older brother. He was beginning to accept Stiles into the small circle that was his pack and family, especially after seeing how attached all of his betas were to the boy.

Today was another one of Derek and Stiles’ solo training days and Stiles was getting his things ready so he could leave and be at Derek’s on time when his father knocked on his doorframe, demanding his attention.

“Hey dad, what’s up?” Stiles dropped his bag on the bed and sat down next to hit, motioning for his dad to take the chair at his desk.

“I just wanted to talk to you, son.” His dad sat in the chair slowly, a deep sigh leaving his body on the way down. When he finally looked at Stiles, his eyes were filled with worry and Stiles knew instantly what this conversation was going to be about.

“It’s come to my attention that you’ve been hanging out with that Hale boy and the kids he knows and I just have one question: you’re being safe, right? Now, I know you’re technically an adult now but you’re my boy, my only kid, and I worry, okay. I just need to know you’re not up to anything illegal or something.”

“Dad, oh my god.” Stiles stared at his dad incredulously because, really? He really thought he was getting high behind abandoned 7/11s with the pack? That was ridiculous. “What the hell? They’re my friends, I met them all through Scott. All we do is hang out and watch movies and act like teenagers. What makes you think they recruited me to be in some sort of gang?”

“That’s not what I’m saying Stiles and you know it. It’s just, ever since you got back from the hospital, you’ve been different. You haven’t talked to or seen Danny and Lydia in months, you’re always hanging around at the animal clinic and now you’re hanging out with Hale and his crew. I’m just worried for you, Stiles. You’ve changed so much over the past few months I feel like I don’t know who you are anymore. Melissa and I barely see you, you’re out always. So, forgive me for worrying about my son.”

Stiles felt his heart breaking at his dad’s words. It was true that over the last few months, ever since he found out what he was truly capable of, he hasn’t acted like the kid his dad saw him grow up to be. It was hard to go back to life as he had known it before he found out about magic and werewolves and the like. It was hard to go back and pretend nothing happened to him and keep this huge secret from all of the people in his life.

With the pack, with Derek, it made life so much easier. He didn’t have to pretend to be something he wasn’t or act as if his life hadn’t changed. Everyone knew what he was and what he was capable of and they didn’t treat him any differently. They still teased him, made him drive them anywhere they wanted to go, treated him like he was just as important to the pack, as quintessential to their happiness, as Derek was. It made him feel good, the sense of family they provided him.

Looking at his dad again, he saw his face scrunched up in a frown, his forehead crinkling with lines as the corners of his mouth turned down. His eyes were sad when they started in Stiles’ and he felt like the world’s worst son.

“I’m sorry dad.” Stiles took a deep breath and played with his fingers while he tried to figure out what to say. “I know I haven’t been acting the same since the accident. It’s just, I didn’t feel the same after that and I felt like I couldn’t go back to my old life and fake it and try to fit into the life I’ve created from so long ago when I didn’t even feel like the same person anymore. And then I met Scott and he was new and he didn’t have this idea of me already ingrained in his brain so I was able to start over and it felt good. To make friends who didn’t try and get me to act how I was before like Danny and Lydia did, even though I’m pretty sure they never meant to. Then Scott introduced me to the pa- to the guys, and it was like it all clicked, I guess. They’re the friends I didn’t know I needed but I’m really glad I have.” Stiles looked up to stare his dad in the eye as he prepared himself to talk again. With the look his dad was giving him, Stiles believed that he understood what Stiles was saying, hopefully.

“We’re like a little makeshift family, dad. I need them and I think they need me.” Stiles said the last part with conviction, tears beginning to form as the truth of his words actually hit him. His dad looked shocked, his mouth open when he heard what Stiles was saying before he closed it quickly and nodded slightly at Stiles. He stood from the chair and walked towards the doorway, pausing to look back at Stiles.

“I’m glad you have them, Stiles. They seem good to you.”

His dad closed the door softly as he left his room, Stiles watching him leave from his bed.

°°°

When Stiles finally got to Derek’s loft, he was expecting to be bombarded with hugs and questions to why he was late. What he didn’t expect was to find the pack tied up together against Derek’s dining chairs, all of them in different stages of waking up from being knocked unconscious.

Stiles rushed towards them to beginning untying the ropes around them, dropping his bag somewhere near the front door. He begins on the ropes tying up Derek since he was the one closest to the door. Whoever tied the knots did a pretty good job, having bound his hands and feet together before binding his body to the chair, all the rope connected in some intricate sort of way.

Derek was beginning to wake up as Stiles finally managed to free his hands, bright red rope burn showing up on his skin that isn’t healing.

“Stiles,” Derek slurred out his name, his head lolling from left to right as he tried to catch Stiles in his line of sight. “Stiles, what are you doing here? You gotta go, it’s not safe here.” Derek leaned down to push Stiles away and in the direction of the door but falling short and slumping forward onto Stiles back. Stiles, who was on his knees trying to undo the knots around Derek’s calves and ankles, yelps at the sudden addition of weight to his person.

“Derek, buddy, I’m gonna need you to sit back up so I can finish untying you, okay?” Shifting around so he could put his hands on Derek’s shoulders, Stiles began to push 200 pounds of werewolf muscle off and away from him. “There you go, I got you. Now, stay there so I can finish untying you and move on to the rest of the pack.” Sure that Derek wasn’t going to move from his slumped position in the chair, he moved back to his feet to finish undoing the knots.

As Stiles moved on to undo everyone else’s bindings, Derek murmuring about how it wasn’t safe and how they had to protect Stiles at all costs. The betas were more or less full functioning by the time everyone was untied so, together, the maneuvered Derek from the chair onto the couch.

Exhausted, Stiles plopped down into the chair next to the couch, a huge sigh escaping his body. “Now, can someone tell me what the _hell_ happened before I got here?”

Erica and Isaac moved to sit on the loveseat across from Stiles, Boyd standing behind him and Scott perching himself on one of the arms. Whatever happened, it was serious if they were all presenting a united front against Stiles.

“So we were getting everything ready for today,” Erica was the one who began retelling the story, a serious look in her eyes when she looked at Stiles. “Waiting for you to show up so we could get everything started when we heard a knock on the door. I thought it was you, though looking back now it obviously couldn’t have been because you have a key, so I went to open it but instead of seeing your beautiful brown eyes, I got a face full of wolfsbane and was knocked unconscious.” Erica crossed her arms around her waist, an angry frown on her face as she recalled the details.

He looked around at the rest of the pack, waiting for one of the boys to continue the story since it seemed like Erica had done her part. Boyd uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, bracing himself against the back of the couch.

“We all saw Erica go down. When she was on the ground, the people at the door started coming into the loft. They had magic and they were blocking all of our attempts to fight them before we even made a move. But it wasn’t like they were here for us. They paid zero attention to anything we did to them unless it was deliberately standing in their way. They wanted Derek. They walked right up to him and said something to him we couldn’t hear. Whatever it was, Derek didn’t like it because he lost his mind, tried fighting them and shit. That just ended up with him getting wolfsbane blown in his face, knocking him out. They did the same thing to us and we were out until you came.”

Stiles blood had gone cold as Boyd had talked. The whole situation felt like something right out of Stiles’ nightmares but instead of it happening to him, it was happening to the people he cared about. He should have been here, he should have been able to protect his pack and not let them get hurt.

“These people, what did they look like?” He was scared to hear the answer even if he knew what it was going to be. Deep down, he knew who caused all of this.

Isaac was the one to answer Stiles this time. “We couldn’t really see their faces but they wore these like huge black cloaks with hoods that covered their faces. But they did seem to glow. Like, they had this aura around them that made them seem like they were shimmering. It was weird.” Everyone was nodding in agreement to Isaac’s words, confirming Stiles’ worse thoughts.

The people that had found him months ago, they were back. They were back for him and he had a feeling they weren’t going to stop until they got him and killed him.

“Okay, uhm,” Stiles got up from the chair and started pacing, his hands running through and pulling his hair. “We need to call Deaton and let him know what happened here. Maybe he knows something about who they are or what they want and what we can do to protect ourselves.”

Stiles heard Derek moan in pain on the couch and was near the couch in a heartbeat. “Derek, are you okay?” He moaned again and rolled his head towards Stiles. “Hey, Derek, everything is fine. You can wake up, we got you.”

Stiles began running his hand over Derek’s hair, murmuring nonsense words at him to calm him down and wake him up. Eventually, his eyes began to open slowly, and he looked directly at Stiles.

“Stiles, you’re okay.” Derek stared at him with wide, vulnerable eyes, sitting up quickly to pull him into a bone-creaking hug. Stiles startled for a bit before moving to hug Derek back just as tight. “You’re okay, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah buddy, I’m fine. But enough about me, how are you? You looked pretty bad when I got here.” Stiles leaned back from the hug to get a good look at Derek. He still looked scared but more for Stiles than for himself. The red rash around his wrists were beginning to fade, way too slow when werewolf healing was factored in but healing nonetheless.

“I’m fine as long as you and everyone else are fine. Everyone is fine, right?”

“Everyone is fine, everything is fine. They told me what happened and we’re about to call Deaton to see if he knows anything. Do you have anything to tell me about what happened, though? The guys told me that they seemed like they were after you.”

Derek nodded before he sat up on the couch, wincing slightly as he went. Stiles followed him, his hands perched at his shoulders just in case before he sat down beside him. Bringing his feet up on the couch, knees tucked tightly to his chest, Stiles turned to look at Derek.

“I guess you could say they were looking for me. Well, they were looking for me to find you, at least. They’re after you, Stiles. We have to keep you safe.” Derek hoped to his feet and began to walk away before Stiles grabbed a hold of his hand, pulling him back onto the couch.

“Hey, big guy, slow you’re roll. I can take care of myself, it’s fine. We’ll call Deaton for the extra support, don’t worry.” Stiles looked over to Scott and motioned for him to call Deaton and get him here ASAP. “Now back to you. What do you mean they’re after me, did they tell you something?”

“Yeah. They came up to me and I tried to fight them off but whatever powers they have, I couldn’t fight against it. And then one of them leaned towards me and said to me ‘We want the witch’ and I knew they meant you. I tried to go after them, tried to do something but they knocked me out. That’s all I remember.”

Stiles nodded. “Well then. Sounds like we have a problem.” Standing up from the couch, Stiles made his way over to where he dropped his bag by the door and pulled out his phone. “So, I’m going to call my dad and say I’m spending the night with you guys. I suggest you do the same. We have some planning to do.”

°°°

The moment Deaton stepped through the doorway, everyone was on him attempting to rehash the story from all angles as well as they could. Deaton sat through it all patiently, nodding along and asking questions about the whole thing until he seemed to get all information he needed.

“So, from what I’ve been told, it seems that your past has finally caught up with you, Mr. Stilinski.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Stiles walked to the couch and slouched down into the cushions, chin against his chest. He knew that, eventually, something like this would happen. That something would come after him and try to hurt him or the people around him. He was just hoping it had happened later on in life, when he knew for certain his magic was in his control and he could protect himself and the people around him without breaking a sweat. He was still a novice, still practicing remedial spells and trying to firmly ground his magic. He wasn’t prepared in anyway to take on something this big.

“Wait, Stiles what does he mean by that? What past?” Isaac came to sit beside Stiles, concern clear in his eyes as he threw an arm around Stiles’ shoulders to pull him into his chest.

He sighed deeply into Isaac’s chest before pulling away to talk.

“So, about six months ago, maybe a little bit longer, I don’t remember anymore, I kinda ended up running away from home and ended up 300 miles in some forest in San Bernardino. You probably heard about it around town, read about it in the newspaper, heard it on the news. It was kind of a big deal with me being the Sheriff’s kid and all.”

“I remember hearing something about that!” Erica exclaimed, eyes wide as she stared at Stiles, processing the new information. “That was you?”

“Yep, that was me. I’m surprised you guys didn’t figure it out earlier, how many Stilinski’s are there in Beacon Hills? Anyway, during my little trek in the far away woods, I finally came into my magic. It was kind of the reason I was out there in the first place. So much energy contained inside me it eventually took over and basically exploded out of my body so I could deal again. I blacked out during the whole time I was away and don’t remember anything before waking up in the hospital bed. Well, I remember one thing.

“The thing about releasing as much magic as I did at one time, it acts as a beacon to anyone in the area that, hey, there’s a person with some kick ass magic over there, better go get them and take their powers. Which is what happened to me, it’s what I remember happening to me. Lately it’s been a blur, something I really don’t want to reflect on but I do remember these...these people in these cloaks. And they kept grabbing me and touching me and their touch made my skin feel like it was being burnt off, made it break open and bleed and I was in so much pain it was horrible. I truly thought I was going to die because of everything and I really didn’t mind it at the time.”

“Well you clearly didn’t die so what happened?” Isaac moved sometime during Stiles talking and placed his arm back over his shoulders, a comforting weight to keep him grounded through everything.

“Derek happened. He found me somehow and he scared away everyone and he just laid with me. I don’t remember what happened after that, just that I woke up in the hospital and everything that followed that.”

Scott gaped at Stiles for a second before turning and pointing an accusatory finger at Derek. “That’s why you ran away and disappeared a while ago! You went to save Stiles.” Scott sat down again, his mouth opened slightly in awe. “Dude, we tried looking for you when you ran and got nothing. I guess I understand now.”

Derek hadn’t said anything during the whole time Stiles talked, just remained a steady presence at his back while he told the betas what he already knew. He did tense up more than usual when Scott and Stiles brought up him saving Stiles, the subject still being a bit too touchy for him. Stiles still wanted to know why Derek was so against being around him or being his familiar earlier on in their relationship but those were questions for a different time.

Stiles looked at Deaton to find the man casting his eyes between Stiles and Derek, like he knew something they didn’t which was usually the case with him.

“Deaton, do you have an ideas about anything we can do? Because I’d really like to not die, thanks.”

“You’re not going to die, Stiles. I won’t allow it.” Derek growled from behind him. Laughing slightly, Stiles turned to look at him.

“I’m sure you’ll try, buddy, but it doesn’t actually work like that though. I appreciate it though.” Patting Derek’s arm slightly. Stiles turned back to Deaton to find the older man with a smirk on his face.

“Well. I might have one idea. But I doubt anyone will actually like it.” He stood up and gathered his things, moving towards the door while everyone stared at him in confusion. “How about you guys just get a good night’s sleep and I’ll be back in the morning to talk to you about your possibilities. Good night.” Deaton turned his back on them and walked away, the metal door slamming in place in his wake.

°°°

_He can feel the presence of others before he even opens his eyes to take in his surroundings. He feels the press of bodies firmly against his own, hands roaming and shoulders brushing in a way that feels grounding and comforting instead of uncomfortable and fearful._

_Opening his eyes slowly, he takes in the people around him. Four men and a woman, all of them standing tall behind him. He is standing in the foreground, the man with the dark hair and green eyes standing close to his right side, looking ready to do anything he must to defend the people around him and himself. On his left stands the tan boy, his eyes glowing an unnatural blue as he stands in a defensive position. Behind the boy on his left stands the two remaining boys, the dark-skinned one and the blond, their faces morphed into those of animals, of wolves, fangs protruding nastily over their lips. The girl stands behind the man on his right, her claws out and ready to render flesh from bone._

_He turns about face to face their opposition, the same ones he always faces. He’s greeted by bodies shroud in darkness, their faces hidden from his pack as they stood far enough away to barely be seen._

_He’s angry. These are the people who have hurt him, tortured him, done everything they could to break him and when they couldn’t, resorted to finding the people he cares about the most and harming them. He can’t allow this to happen, not again, not after the first time._

_Anger boiling hot in his veins, he walks closer to the figures, a bright blue light shining around him. He feels his pack move with him, getting ready to follow whatever lead he sets. The closer they get, the brighter the blue turns until it is so bright he can’t see even a few feet in front of him._

_Left with few options due to his limited sight, he screams loud and thrusts his hands out, the blue around him shattering as he does so and concentrating to his hands. In front of him, all he sees is silver, the figures disappearing behind the shine of magic._

_He thrusts his hands out in front of him again, sending a stream of blue towards the silver in front of him and watching it shatter it to pieces. The cloaked figures are emanating anger, the feeling tangible as they stare at him. The one in the lead begins to stalk towards him and he follows suit, refusing to back down from this fight._

_They meet halfway and he ducks as a bolt of silver shot towards his head. In the background he’s distinctly aware of the others fighting as well but his focus is solely on the person in front of him. Another bolt of silver comes directly at him and he barely manages to dodge it in time. He breathes hard, heart pounding hard in his chest._

_Standing up fully he concentrates on the force controlled at his hands and sends them out simultaneously, attempting to catch his opponent off guard from two different angles. It almost works too, his blue lights are closing in on their body when they move out of range at the last second, a bolt of silver coming directly as he watches blue collide into each other._

_He’s hit in the chest and he feels his lungs give out and his ribs shatter from the force. He was dying, he felt it. He felt his heart pump weaker and weaker with each ragged breath he took. He can’t go out like this, he can’t allow them to win when they haven’t done anything to deserve such a thing. So he does the only thing he knows how to and lets go._

_He collapses to the ground. He has no more energy to try and hold himself up, he needs to save everything he can for what he’s about to do._

_Closing his eyes tightly he whispers to himself, words he learned forever ago and memorised just on the off chance he might need them one day even though he hoped forever that the day would never come. He feels someone talking towards him and he’s pretty sure they’re talking to him but he couldn’t less about anything they have to say. He has something to do and he needs to focus._

_The words still leaving his lips in a whisper he feels a pressure gathering under his veins, a power building under his skin. He makes it grow more and more until he can’t handle the pain and lets it all go at once._

_The pressure explodes, ripping his skin open so it can all escape and do its job. It wipes out everyone across the field, even the people who had the largest part of his heart. He screams when he notices what he’s done. Screams until his voice is gone and his eyes can’t see anything anymore because of  the tears. He shouts voiceless screams and sheds tears until he can’t anymore, until his heart stops beating like the one who owned it has._

_°°°_

Stiles and the pack made their way to the clinic first thing the next morning. They all piled into his office and stared at the older man as they waited for the plan he made them wait all night for.

“So Deaton,” Stiles was the first one to talk, wanting to get this conversation and everything following it done as soon as possible. “What’s your plan, man?”

Deaton looked at Stiles unimpressed before moving to sit at his desk. He began to pull out papers he had stashed in one of the top drawers of the desk and motioned for everyone to sit. “First, everyone, please sit. This isn’t a situation that requires constant vigilance.” Once everyone had their own chair around his desk, Deaton began to organise the papers he was going to talk about first.

“Okay, now, onto how to stop the latest trouble in Beacon Hills. When I left you lot last night I started doing some research and I believe I have an idea of who these people are and what they want exactly.”

“We already know what they want. It’s Stiles. Now who are they?” Erica made a hurry along motion with her hands, already wanting to end whatever was happening more than Stiles did.

“Well, Miss Reyes, it isn’t only Stiles they want. They want Derek as well, even though not as much as Stiles.”

“Well if they wanted me so bad, why didn’t they take me the other day when they had me?” Derek had a frown on his face, confused as to why anyone would want anything to do with him.

“Because they need you and Mr. Stilinski together and I figure they believed they wouldn’t get him if they just took you the moment they saw you.”

Everyone looked at Deaton with varying levels of confusion on their faces. Sighing and rolling his eyes, Deaton leaned against his desk and began again.

“The group, or coven really, are called Brujas Del Diablo, The Devil’s Witches. They’re a global coven of some of the darkest witches from around the world. They are different branches of this coven I guess you could say, who focus on traveling through whatever country they are in and finding the most powerful of supernaturals in order to steal what makes them magical and make themselves stronger. And Stiles, he’s one of the most powerful witches in this hemisphere, maybe even the world, since around the time of the Salem trials. So it makes sense as to why they’re targeting him, based on his magic alone.

“But when you add to that the bond he has with Derek, a bond that is so pure and powerful and intimate. An Alpha werewolf from the prestigious Hale pack and the most powerful witch this century has ever seen. They make a pretty amazing pair.”

“Deaton,” Stiles squeezed his fists tight, nails digging into the skin of his palms and causing it to sting. He gritted his teeth hard when he glared in Deaton’s direction. “I don’t really have time for your normal cryptic game of beating around the bush. Can you please just tell us what these people want and what we can do to stop them so we can go back to living as normal lives as a pack of werewolves and a wannabe Sabrina can live. Please.”  

“Okay.” He took a deep breath and shuffled through his papers until he stopped on what he wanted. He flipped the page over so the rest of them could see, Stiles leaning forward the most so he could get up close and personal with the page. It’s a picture, a painting to be exact even though he wasn’t sure what it was showing. He saw flames in the middle of the circle of people, the flames high in air as the burned bodies in the flames scream. There’s a figure standing closer to the fire than all of the others, its body standing extremely tall, claws and fangs protruding from its mouth and hands. The people in the circle behind it are on their knees as if they’re praising whatever this creature is.

“This is a painting of the Ritual of Delevigne from 1576, the first and last recorded time of this ritual being performed. The basis of the ritual is pretty simple: spill the blood of a bonded Alpha wolf and that of an extremely powerful witch simultaneously, say a few magic words and you should, theoretically, be able to take over their bodies and their powers.

“However, when they performed this spell all those years ago, they made a fatal flaw that I believed has just been discovered by the people after you. That’s why they’re after Derek and Stiles specifically and only them. The objective of this spell is to be able to remove the power from two of the most powerful supernatural creatures, the wolf and witch, and transfer it into the spellcaster, making their magic stronger and, supposedly, give them the powers of a wolf while still being completely human still. This spell is meant to ruin the natural order we have in this world and create something that shouldn’t be via greed and excessive power. This spell creates something unnatural and unintended for this world.”

“Okay, so what can we do to make sure none of that happens to us?” Stiles didn’t really fancy the idea of being used as a pawn to create some über monster to destroy the world.

“I’m afraid there isn’t much we can do, Stiles.”

“What do you mean there isn’t much we can do?” Derek stalked closer to Deaton’s desk anger radiating off of him as he pointed a finger at him. “You said you’d have a plan for us today. Where is it? There has to be something we can do. Anything.”

“I’m sorry Derek but I’m not sure there is one. This is one bad guy you cannot defeat. This ritual is too power and it requires an extremely powerful with to accomplish it. The easiest option is to give them what they want and cope because there is no better scenario. Or hope that your bond is strong enough for Stiles to draw from and find a way to counteract whatever might happen”

“How would I do that?” Stiles moved so he was leaning on the edge of his chair, shoulder to shoulder with Derek as they waited for Deaton to tell them what they could do. “Tell me what to do, I’ll do it.”

“The ritual requires the blood of a bonded Alpha werewolf and the blood of witch, which we know. The last time this ritual was performed, they had grabbed a freshly mated werewolf, which is what I believe they mean when they say a bonded wolf,  and a witch from cities away. Neither knew who the other was or what the coven wanted with them, they weren’t bonded in any way. They died instantly, the witch not strong enough to counteract the magic, nor was she able to pull extra power from a familiar bond like you might be able to. But that was almost 500 years ago and Stiles, you are stronger than that witch already, even with a barely there grip on your magic. And your bond with Derek, it isn’t just your normal bond between familiar and witch, as I’ve said before. It is something much more powerful than that and you might be able to use that to your advantage, if just barely.”

Deaton turned to face Derek, whose jaw was clenched tight and was glaring at Deaton hard. “Derek, I know you don’t want to tell him but you have to. It could save your life, him knowing. It changes everything and you know it.”

Derek continued to glare at Deaton but the other man wasn’t backing down. “Derek, you have to tell him.”

Stiles sat up and put his hand on Derek’s arm, instantly grabbing the older man’s attention. “Hey, whatever you have to tell me, just tell me. I can’t be too bad now, can it?” He chuckled slightly before stopping suddenly when he saw how serious Derek’s face was. “Hey, just tell me. I won’t get mad or upset or anything. Just tell me.”

Derek dropped into the seat next to Stiles, shoulders slumped and head down. He kept drawing deep breaths as if he was preparing himself to give the biggest speech of his life. Stiles just waited for something to happen.

“We might be mates. Or, at least, I want you to be my mate. It’s kind of complicated, I don’t know.” Derek still had his head down, refusing to lift his head and look at Stiles. Who was completely shocked by the news.

“We’re...mates? What does that mean?”

“It means you’re the one person I want to spend the rest of my life with. That you’re the only one for me.”

“It means,” Deaton began talking and Stiles shot his head up to look at him. “That you two are connected deeper than the familiar bond, which isn’t even official as of yet since you haven’t completed the bonding ritual yet. But it makes sense. It explains how Derek found you when you were in San Bernardino. It explains why he felt like a comfort for you and why you dreamed of him. It explains why he was the one to show up in your room when you performed the searching spell. It explains a lot, truthfully.”

“Uh,” Stiles sat back in his chair, one of his hands running through his hair before it fell into his lap. “Well okay then.”

“Wait, you're not mad?” Derek jerked his head up to stare at Stiles, eyes a bit shocked but a lot hopeful at Stiles’ answer.

“Why would I be mad, you’re magical tied to me for the rest of your life because of this familiar bullshit. It’s only fair I’m magically tied back to you in someway.” Stiles turned back to look at Deaton, his face serious. “Now, how exactly can we use this to our advantage. And get straight to the point this time, please. We don’t have time for games.”

°°°

After spending a good couple of hours at Deaton’s hashing out a plan, everyone went back to Derek’s loft to rest and get ready for when shit really hits the fan.

Stiles and Derek walked side by side back towards Stiles’ jeep, shoulders bumping togethering and the air growing heavy with unspoken words. Stiles knows they really need to talk, talk about what was going to change, if anything, now that Stiles knew what Derek wanted from him. They also had to talk about what it meant, that they were mated on top of having a familiar bond. Stiles really needed to tell find time to tell his dad about all of this mess.

“So,” Stiles shuffled his next step closer to Derek, causing them to bump shoulders as they kept walking. “We’re mates, huh?”

Derek smiled slightly at Stiles’ words and bumped his shoulder back against his. “Well, yeah I guess. It’s not all soulmates and star alignments like lots of people seem to think it is.”

“Then what is it really?”

“For wolves, finding a mate isn’t that much different than a human trying to find a significant other, just with a few extra senses. We look for the same thing in mates as anyone else would; for someone to spend the rest of their lives with. Someone who fits into all aspects of your life perfectly. Someone who notices your flaws and your differences and is completely okay with them, who understands that those are the things that make you, you. But there’s also an added aspect to it.

“You look for someone who feels like family, a feeling you get from their smell and their actions. You look for someone your pack appreciates and who appreciates them right back because pack is the most important thing to wolves. There’s a lot I can’t explain about it, a lot of it based solely on instincts and what just feels right. But yeah, you’re what’s it for me. The perfect matching puzzle piece if you will.”

“So what you’re saying is you’re stuck with me and you want it that way, huh?” Stiles smiled softly as the back of his hand brushing up against Derek before he hooked their pinkies together. “That might not be such a smart decision for you to make.”

“No, it’s the best decision for me to make. Stiles, you are literally everything I could have wanted in a mate and more. You’re loyal to a fault and you care about everyone more than you do yourself sometimes. You work so hard to prove yourself when you’re already surpassing all expectations. You work so well with my pack and you make me feel like I’ve never felt before. This is the best decision I’ve ever made.”

Stiles felt tears in his eyes, his face felt hot and he knew he was going to start crying at any moment.

“That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.” Stiles stopped the both of them and placed his arms around Derek’s waist, his head buried into the man’s chest as tears began to slowly fall from his eyes. Derek stood still for a second before placing his arms around Stiles in return and squeezing him tight. “I’m glad I get to keep you.”

°°°

They had known something like this was going to happen eventually, they just didn’t expect it to happen as soon as they got home.

They had all made it back to the loft in one piece, Erica had laughed at something Stiles had said while Isaac got a piggyback ride from Scott, a smile on everyone’s faces when suddenly Derek stopped and smelled the air. The rest of his betas followed suit, their eyes flashing bright blue when they caught onto whatever their Alpha had.

“They’re back.” Isaac said, his fangs making his words slur. Erica and Boyd growled in agreement while Scott went into his full beta shift, face contorting and claws lengthening, ready to fight anything that came their way.

Derek was the calmest out of them all, red eyes glowing bright as he pushed Stiles behind everyone. “Everyone stay calm. We know what they’re here for and we know they won’t leave until they get it so let’s just make this a lot easier and give it to them. It’ll be fine, we went over this at Deaton’s”

Derek turned to look at Stiles, his eyes back to their normal kaleidoscope color. He placed his hands on Stiles’ shoulders and pulled him into his chest tightly, hugging him quickly before he pulls away. “Are you ready for this?”

Stiles was kind of shocked. He really hadn’t expected this to happen so soon and even though he thought he was ready he knew he truly wasn’t. But he nodded anyway when Derek asked, took his hand in his and began the walk into the building.

The pack followed closely behind them. They knew what they had to do but Stiles could tell they didn’t like the idea of just giving themselves up and sitting still while Stiles and Derek took their lives into their own hands. But it was for the greater good, for this one time. Derek didn’t want to risk his betas, didn’t want them present in the event something bad did happen to him and Stiles. Everyone knew that this coven would do anything they had to to get what they wanted, including taking out a whole pack of werewolves to get to the Alpha. When they first came, they went easy on them and they couldn’t risk anything worse happening to them, not when Derek and Stiles were willing to work alone to end this, if they could.

When they got to the door of Derek’s loft they stopped, Stiles’ heart beating overtime. He was scared, beyond scared actually, but he knew this had to be done. Taking a deep breath, he reached forward and pulled the door open.

Standing in the middle of the room were six people, all of them wearing black cloaks with the hoods down. They stood in a semi-circle but the witch in the middle stepped forward to address them when they walked in. She had an air about that screamed important and in control and it made Stiles want to run away and hide. She was clearly an apex predator and she had found her prey.

Her light brown hair was braided over her shoulder and her eyes were a piercing shade of green, keen enough to look as if she was staring directly into your soul. Her hands were clasped in front of her and were covered in tattoos, the dark black ink stark against the extreme paleness of her skin. She was tall and gaunt, her limbs long and her skin stretched thin over bones and tendons.

She stopped a few feet in front of Derek and Stiles, her quick eyes taking in their position before focusing solely on Stiles. He swore he saw them flash silver  for a quick second before they returned to green.

“Stiles Stilinski. It is good to see you have finally accepted your fate and are willing to give yourself over to us. It is better this way.” She took a step closer to him

Stiles heard someone growl behind him—it was a tie between Erica and Scott, he wasn’t exactly sure—when she reached a hand out to touch him. Her eyes flashed up to the source of noise, completely silver, and a spark travelled behind him. He turned his head to see Isaac standing over Scott, making sure he was okay and helping him back to his feet.

“Disrespectful mutts. They have no sense of manners, those bitten wolves.” She turned her eyes to Derek who was standing tense beside Stiles. His claws were out and digging into his skin, the blood slowly dripping onto the floor. “But you, my dear, you are special. Derek Hale, a pureblood of a werewolf. Alpha of the prestigious Hale Pack, a pack so far spread it covers numerous continents. Something no pack has ever been able to accomplish before. You’re so powerful. So perfect. Exactly what I need.” She moved to grab his hand, releasing his fist and making his claws retract. “Now now, none of that. Your blood is precious, we mustn’t waste it.” Grabbing Stiles’ hand, she pulled them back to the remainder of her coven. “We must go, time is of the essence. Tell your wolves by for the final time, lovelies.” Stiles turned to stare at the pack again. He could clearly see the tears in Erica’s eyes from where he was, could see the tight grip she had on Boyd’s shirt as she watched them go. Isaac and Scott tried to look stoic but he could see behind their masks, they were just as scared as Erica, their eyes shining with the tears that were going to spill when they were finally gone. Even Boyd seemed upset, his hands clenched into fists as he held on to Erica as she cried.

°°°

Stiles didn’t very much enjoy the feeling of rope against his skin. He also didn’t particularly like the smell of too many burnt herbs or the voice of crazy power crazed witches as they went off on long winded monologues.  

“I cannot express the joy I feel to know that you willingly gave yourselves to me. It truly means great things to me to know that you would give up your lives to a greater being for the search of power.” The witch—her name was Delphine as she had told them on the way to wherever the ritual was taking place—had started talking and hadn’t stopped from the moment they left the loft. At first it was nonsense things, about how she was so glad she finally had all the pieces to the puzzle, that she could finally accomplish her birthright.

The closer they got to wherever they needed to be, the more super villain she got. She started dropping little hints as to what she planned to do once she killed them and had her powers, not enough for either of them to understand but enough to know that it wouldn’t be any good.

“This is for the greater good. The world will be a better place once I have finally gotten what I want, what is truly mine since birth.” They finally made it to a clearing, a wooden crucifix erected in the middle of the field. Around it, Stiles could see faint white lines in what was most likely a pentagram, candles placed at the five points of the star. In front of the pole sat a silver pole with a smudge stick smoking in it, a waved bladed dagger resting beside it.  “The last time the Ritual of Delevigne was performed, it was done by a weak-willed coven who, even though they succeeded in doing what people claimed to be the impossible, could not control that much power. Their souls were weak, they were fragile and not equipped for it.” Delphine walked Derek and Stiles to the middle of the field and threw them in a heap on the ground. With their arms and legs bound, they couldn’t move themselves enough to sit up and keep an eye on what was happening around them.

“But we have evolved, you see. Our magic has gotten stronger, our senses have gotten better, we are thriving. We are the supreme race, no matter the fact that we are surrounded by wolfmen and the magic fae. We, the witches, are the highest tier in the food chain and I am number one.” She leaned down near Stiles head so she could look him directly in the eye.

“You know, Stiles, this could have been you. Truthfully, you’re stronger than me. I felt it all those months ago when you passed out in that tiny wood in San Bernardino and I can feel it now as I look you in your eyes. I can feel the way your magic, vibrant and strong and _thriving_ , is beating against your veins. It is so refreshing and young. And soon, it’ll be mine.”

She grabbed him by his hair and yanked, forcing him to his knees. He cried out in pain, tears springing to his eyes but he forced himself not to cry. To remain quiet and be strong. She pulled him up to his feet and walked him over to the crucifix, undoing and redoing the knots of his wrist and binding him to the piece of wood in record time. He flexed his wrists to see if he could loosen the knots but only resulted in them tightening and digging deeper into his skin. With his hands out to the sides, he had no way to move his thumb under the bindings to free his hand either.

Delphine brought Derek over after Stiles and tied him to the wood just as quick and effective as she had tied him. In his peripheral, Stiles could see Derek flexing his wrists in the same way he had, testing for any weakness in his bindings and slumping when none were found.

“It is cute how you two tried to loosen the knots but you won’t be getting out of those things until we cut your dead bodies free. Their self tightening knots, the more you struggle, the more they tighten. They are also rigged to weaken you. Derek, yours is threaded with wolfsbane so I don’t think you’ll be making any leeway on those anytime soon. And Stiles, your rope is extra special. It was soaked in a special mixture of mine, a potion I created that drains just enough of a witch’s magic so they can’t use it, but not enough to affect what I have planned.”

She walked away from them and toward the still smoking smudge stick. She picked it up and began to wave it around the clearing, muttering words Stiles couldn’t quite make out. The other people in the coven began to take spots around the pentagram, all of them muttering things as well before they picked up the candles in front of them and lit them.

Delphine had finished with the smudge stick and made her wake back to the crucifix, knife in one hand and beautifully designed silver bowls in the other.

“Now, I would lie and say this will not hurt but I really do not see the point in that. So, this will hurt. Hopefully a lot.” Bending down, she placed the bowls under their forearms and leaned closely to Stiles. She grabbed his wrist in an iron hold and slashed the knife halfway down his forearms, causing him to cry out. Blood flowing from the wound quickly before it slowed to a slight with a whisper of words from her lips. She repeated this process on his other arm and then on Derek, making a wounded noise as well when the knife first passed over his skin.

She watched the blood flow for a few seconds before nodding at herself, a grin on her lips.

“Perfect.” Returning to her place at the head of the pentagram, Delphine raised her hands high in the air, her head tossed back. The moon was bright and full in the sky, shining like a spotlight on her. The whole setup looked like it belonged in a Hollywood horror movie and Stiles got chills running down his spine, his blood running cold when he thought that he might truly die tonight in that clearing.

 **Per** **et incarátus est de nocte caelum**

Her voice was loud like thunder, shaking Stiles to his core. He saw the other witches still murmuring, the words still unclear to his ears. They were swaying side to side, their hoods high over their heads as they followed Delphine’s orders.

 **Illuminare** **omnes, qui in abscondito**

Delphine began to orbit the circle, walking anti-clockwise with her hands still in the air. Her hood was down unlike everyone else so he had a clear view of her face. Her already pale and gaunt skin was even paler, a blue undertone so obvious she looked dead. Her skin looked like as thin as paper. She looked like a walking skeleton.

**Da mihi potestaten, ut accipere**

With each step she took, her voice got louder and louder, booming through the clearing as if she were talking into a microphone. A slight wind began to blow through the space as well, whipping around where Stiles and Derek were bound.

**Ut evolve**

**Ad irritandum**

She stopped directly in front of Stiles and stared him deep in the eyes as she spoke those words, hers no longer the green he had known them to be. Where her eyes should have been was nothing more than silver space, glowing brighter and brighter as the seconds passed. Everything around Delphine seemed to be silver then, as if she were radiating the color from her pores.

**Per voluntatem angelorum cadentium**

Hands back in the air and head thrown back, she began to sway like the rest of her coven. She was breathing deeply, her ribs straining against her chest as she gasped for air. Behind him, he heard Derek gasp loudly, loud enough to be heard over the wind wreaking havoc around them, and felt his back tighten up and he drew his muscles in tight.

“Derek, are you okay?” Stiles screamed over the wind but he didn’t hear an answer. “Derek? Derek!”

He tried to call out for him again but he felt his lungs collapse and burn in need of air. His back drew up tight, his muscles burning from the tension they were being put through. Tears stung his eyes and left wet tracks down his cheeks as he tried desperately to bring air to his lungs.

**Accipere ab et infirma, et da valida**

He felt his heart beating twice as hard as normal. Derek still hadn’t answered him but he could clearly hear him gasping for air in too short breaths. Stiles began to feel lightheaded, unsure if it was from the amount of blood he was dripping into the cups or something else but he didn’t feel right.

He tried to continue tracking Delphine’s movements but his vision was so blurred that everything began to look the same, the only spot of difference was the barely there silver spot that he knew was Delphine.

**Benedicat mihi apud virtute ut exsisto**

Air was leaving his lungs slowly. His heartbeat was slowing down, going so low he barely felt it inside his own body.

**Patitur mihi factus princeps**

A small voice in the back of his head told him that he and Derek were dying and that that wasn’t what was supposed to be happening. That he had to remain strong for the both of them because he was the only one that could. He was the only one with magic, and a bond, strong enough to counteract whatever that bitch might be doing to them. A small voice in the back of his head told him he had to get his shit together because he had Derek had a family and lives to get back to. It was a pretty small voice.

**Ad colligent de quod, potes non usus**

He blacked out, that he knew for a fact. It wasn’t for long, but it had happened. That wasn’t supposed to happen. He had to get out of there, he had to get him and Derek back to where they belonged. And they didn’t belong in a field dead.

**Per gratiam ad astra**

He tried to pull his wrists away from the wood in an attempt to loosen the knots when he remembered that wouldn’t work. They were self tightening knots, especially made for him. He couldn’t even use his magic to get out of there.

He was panicking and panicking hard. He knew they had a plan, a plan they weren’t 100% sure would work but a plan nonetheless. He and Derek were supposed to get out of this situation with the bad guy either dead or hurt enough to reconsider ever trying to do this again.

He focused on Derek, on his laboured breathing, the feel of his ribs expanding as he sucked in air. He thought about the fact that that was his mate and his familiar tied up against his back and that he didn’t want their adventure to end before it even got properly started. He daydreamed about all the things they could do in their life, together, because that was where they belonged, at each others side. He thought about how he needed to fight for what he had in his reach and how he wasn’t ready to let it go.  

His vision blurred completely, his eyes becoming nothing more than a blue haze as he looked on at nothing.

**Date mihi ius**

°°°

As the last words of the spell left Delphine's mouth, Stiles felt a pressure build inside of him. The wind had stopped and the flames on the candles all blew out at the same time, causing the other witches to stop their swaying and look at what was in front of them.

Delphine was crouched on the ground, her cloak drawn tight enough over her skinny frame you could clearly see her bones as she breathed. Her hands were clawing at the dirt as she attempted to crawl forward, fingers resembling straight bone.

She gave up on crawling and sat up, a collective gasp sounding around the clearing at her appearance.

After the spell was over her eyes hadn’t returned to the vibrant green they originally were, instead they continued to shine silver. They also continued to bleed. The blood escaped from the corners of her eyes, spilling over her lips and soaking the black cloak even darker.

He heard murmuring around the circle, questions of what went wrong and how was this possible being passed from one person to the next.

Pushing herself up on shaky legs, Delphine walked towards the crucifix and picked up one of the bowls laid under Stiles’ arm. When she finished the first, she moved onto the second and then onto Derek’s bowls, the blood spilling from the sides of her mouth as she gulped it down as fast as she could.

Once finished, she brought her body closer to the ground and began to whisper a prayer into the dirt.

**Adde me beatus per deos**

**Adde me beatus per in caelis**

**Potestatem a, supra et infra**

**Patitur ut mihi**

When the prayer finished, a force exploded through the clearing, knocking out the people around the pentagram and make Derek and Stiles scream.

Stiles felt like his skin was melting away from the bone, the feeling reminding him of that day months ago when he was on the brink of death like he currently was.

He arched his back away from the wooden pole, the ropes around his chest tightening in a way he knew was going to leave bruises in the future. His wrists were burned from where he was straining against the rope, his throat going raw at how loud his screams were.

Behind him, Derek was alternating between howling loudly at the sky and whimpering like a kicked puppy, the sounds too much for Stiles who felt like he needed to comfort him.

His vision began to blur, everything in front of him becoming nothing more than a blue haze. There was a pressure in his veins that felt like his blood was pumping harder, the tempo of his heartbeat erratic.

His back crashed into the wooden pole harshly, feeling small splinters dig their way into his skin.The cuts on his arm opened again, blood flowing freely from his veins and soaking into the earth beneath him.

It felt like he was covered in flames he was so hot. Fire was concentrated on his hands, so hot he knew they must have been burned down to the bone. In the background, he heard Derek screaming louder and louder but Stiles couldn’t do anything to make it stop, couldn’t even scream in pain himself because there were too many things happening to his body all at once.

His lungs screamed for air as if he were being choked but he was making low, guttural sounds continuously. His muscles felt worn out and useless but he continued to thrash against the ropes tying him down. He was blinded by a blue haze but he also felt as if he could see everything, like his eyesight had never been clearer.

Eventually, it all stopped and Stiles slumped against the ropes holding him. The muscles in his arm burned from being in the same position for so long and he had rope burn around his wrist but he found he didn’t care.

His sight came back slowly, the blue fading away bit by bit until it remained solely in his peripheral. Looking around as much as he could, he was shocked to see the witches still knocked out and Delphine in a whimpering heap in front of him, sobs racking her body.

“What happened?” Stiles heard Derek’s small voice behind him. It sounded like it hurt for him to talk, his throat ripped raw from all of the screaming. “Are we alive? Did you do it?”

Stiles tried to clear his voice and winced when he just succeeded in rubbing it even more raw than it already was. “Uhm, maybe? I’m not too sure what happened.”

Stiles felt Derek straining against the ropes at his back, a surprised noise escaping his mouth when one of the wrist knots snapped in half. He made quick work of untying himself before moving to stand in front of Stiles and untying him as well. The moment his feet were on the ground, his feet buckled and he had to lean against Derek to stay upright, the other man shouldering his weight with ease.

“Well,” Stiles turned his head slightly to the left to stare at Derek, accidentally bumping his nose against the stubble on his jaw. “I declare this a victory, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Derek turned his head to start at where Delphine was still laying on the ground, her eyes trained on them while tears fell from her eyes. Eyes hardening, he made his way over to her, dragging Stiles along.

Stopping just short of her head, Derek snarled down at her, his fangs elongating slightly while his eyes shined red.

“I am going to give you one warning and one warning only. Leave Beacon Hills. Leave my territory, Come near Stiles or anyone else in my pack again, I will not hesitate to detach you limbs from your body and beat you with them. You aren’t welcome him, you never were and you never will be. I want you and your coven gone as soon as possible. Do not cross me.”

Delphine laughed wetly, tears still falling from her eyes. “Well, look who actually has more bite to his bark than expected. Don’t worry, Alpha Hale, I doubt you will be seeing me again.”

“Good.” Derek growled the word at her before he pulled Derek away and into the woods.

°°°

Stiles was stood in front of the bathroom mirror, a grimace on his face as he poked at the roped shaped bruises littering his chest. They had been a solid bluish purple colour from the start and it had just started going green around the edges, almost two weeks after the whole incident with Delphine.

“Stupid witch and her stupidly amazing knot work, these are going to take another week to disappear.” Stiles groaned, his forehead hitting the glass medicine cabinet.

“I don’t know,” Derek came up behind Stiles and slid his arms around his waist, chin resting lightly on his shoulder as he stared at him through the mirror. “I kinda like them. Well, not these bruises exactly, because I hate the way you got them. But the idea of them, that I like.”

Stiles smiled as he turned around in his arms. “Now I don’t think now is the best time to be talking about kinks, Derek. I gotta get my head in the game for tonight.”

“Hm I don’t know, it seems like the perfect time.” Derek dropped his head to Stiles’ neck, lips moving over the skin there ever so lightly, making Stiles shiver from the contact. Derek’s stubble irritated his skin in the best way possible and the little bite he placed on his jugular enough to make his knees go weak.

He felt Derek grin against his skin when he felt his knees buckled and began kissing his way up and down Stiles’ neck with even more fervor, stopping in places he knew made Stiles moan and whimper to suck hickies against the skin.

Derek had moved on to the right side of his neck when a knock sounded on the bathroom door, causing the two men to break away quickly before turning to answer it.

“No, don’t worry about opening the door,” Scott shouted from the other side of the door. “I just came to tell you guys that everything has been set up and if you want to continue doing what you’re doing outside of the bathroom, you totally can because we are out of here. Call us when it’s safe to come back!” Stiles heard Scott’s feet slapping against the floor and the front door slide shut. They were truly alone now.

"So, Mr. Hale,” Stiles moved directly into Derek’s space pressing the front of his body against Derek’s while linking his arms over his shoulders. “What do you have to say about getting this show on the road?”

“I say that sounds like an excellent idea.” Dipping to place a quick kiss on Stiles’ lips, Derek turned to exit the bathroom and make his way to his bedroom.

The room looked completely different compared to the first time Stiles was in it. The black out curtains had been replaced with sheer white linen ones, opened fully to let in the light of the moon. The sheets had been replaced too, instead of the dark blue sheets that had first graced the bed, there were cream coloured satin sheets laid out with way too many pillows than necessary.

Derek grabbed Stiles when he entered the room and slowly pulled him toward the foot of the bed.

“Do you have everything you need?” Derek asked before he leaned back and plopped on the bed.

Stiles laughed and rolled eyes before he turned his back and reached for his bag. “Yeah, I just need to set it all up, it’ll only take a second though.”

“It’s fine by me, take your time, I’m enjoying the view.”

Stiles turned to find Derek tracking his movements with hooded eyes, one of his hands placed behind his head while the other rested casually on his lower belly. Stiles turned his eyes away before he go too distracted and forgot what he was supposed to be doing.

Stiles walked through the room, placing candles at each of the five elemental locations, lighting each one when they were in the correct spot. He walked to the bookshelf Derek had against his back wall and lit the smudge stick he had sitting in the pot, wafting it slightly so a steady stream of smoke left the stick. He looked over the words he had to recite one last time before walking back to where Derek was laid out on the bed.

He was nervous and he wasn’t quite sure why. They were finally getting to do their binding ceremony, something that should have happened earlier on in the relationship but didn’t seem that important for Stiles to bring up to Deaton or Derek about, especially with the knowledge that they were mates on top of it. It just seemed unnecessary.

But after the situation with Delphine and they actually realised how lucky they had gotten with Stiles storing enough magic to deflect what she was attempting to do, Stiles had brought it up and Derek agreed easily. It was something he wanted, to be connected to Stiles as much as he could and in every way he could.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles climbed onto the bed and sat between Derek’s thighs, causing him to lay against his forearms to see him. Placing his hands on Derek’s hips, he leaned forward and gave him and slow kiss in an attempt to calm his heart rate, knowing Derek could hear hear how fast it was going.

He felt hands slid up his thighs and grab onto his hips pulling him in closer and deepening the kiss. Stiles broke the kiss first, panting for air while Derek laid small kisses across his cheeks.

“Hey,” gripping his chin lightly, Derek pulled his head up so he could look him in the eye. “It’ll be fine. You don’t have to worry about a thing. It’s just you and me.” He smiled at him, his eyes shining with love and it made Stiles’ chest hurt.

Nodding, Stiles up the bed until his ass is resting against Derek’s thighs, his hands on Stiles’ hips as he rests his back against the headboard.

Running his hands under his shirt and over his chest, Stiles closes his eyes and recited the words for the ritual.

**Semel solitarius, sine nascitur**

With his eyes still closed, Stiles began to draw runes into Derek’s skin with the pad of his finger, his magic flowing through him freely and burning to Derek’s skin. He could feel the pain on his body slightly before it fades away into nothing.

Derek began kissing Stiles’ neck again, his teeth pulling at the thin flesh there and making him gasp in between the words. His heart began to beat a bit faster and his dick started thickening.

**Simul, unum cor**

Sliding his hands up Derek’s abs slowly, Stiles pressed his hands into his skin firmly, hearing Derek his as the shock of magic travels from his hands into his skin. Placing his hands over Derek’s heart, he drew another rune into the skin, this one with more intent, with more love, with more protection compared to the other ones he already drew.

**Obstricti veneficus, lux et sapientiae**

Removing his hands from his skin, Stiles pushes at the hem of the shirt Derek is wearing and peels it away from his body slowly, the hands on his waist leaving for a second to help Stiles remove the shirt.

He places his hands neck now and rubs soothing circles into the sensitive skin behind Derek’s ears.

**Simul nos vivere per aetate**

**Obstricti sal, caro, et igni**

Somewhere along the way, Derek pulled off Stiles’ shirt and threw it off the side of the bed and he now had his hot mouth attached to one of Stiles’ nipple.

He stumbled over the words, the sensation too much for his brain but just right to get his dick to stir in his pants with a little more enthusiasm than before. He moaned loudly, his words cutting off when he felt Derek run the flat of his tongue roughly over his nipple, making it bud completely. He gave it one last tug before moving on to the other one, giving out little kitten licks that seemed to short circuit Stiles’ brain.

**Simul, sumus participes a desiderio**

Stiles slid his hands up Derek’s neck and into his hair, getting a good handful and yanking his head back, making him moan. He mouthed his way up Derek’s neck, taking his earlobe in his mouth and tugging lightly before he continued to kiss and bite at him.

Making his way to his lips, Stiles took control of the kiss, biting and tugging at Derek’s lips while he lay there.

**Coniungo per in caelis et deosque**

**Ut nobis mom sit discordia**

He slowly lowered his head to Derek’s chest, eyes never leaving his as he attached on to one of his nipples and gave it the same treatment Derek had given his chest.

Head thrown back and whimpering, Derek placed his hand on the back of Stiles’ head to keep him where he was.

**Simul, vivimus**

He kissed his way down lower until he made it to the edge of Derek’s pants, mouthing at his happy trail while he tried to untie the pants and remove them without having to stop.

**Simul, moriamur**

He threw his pants somewhere off the edge of the bed, a listless thump sounding off in the distance.

Stiles couldn’t take his eyes off of Derek’s dick, licking his lips as he took in everything in front of him. He was uncircumcised, the head just barely peaking out from inside the foreskin. He leaned forward and took it in his hand, adjusting to the weight and heat of it before slowly pulling the skin back to expose the head.

Derek groaned loudly, an arm thrown over his eyes so he wasn’t look at Stiles who had stopped his ministrations, scared that he had done something wrong.

“No, no. Keep going. It’s just, god, you look like this is the best thing to ever happen to you and it’s just a lot. I’m okay, keep going.”

Stiles smirked when Derek finally looked and him and began to slower his head. “Well, this is the best thing to ever happen to be. You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.” When he finished talking, he opened his mouth and licked a stripe from Derek’s balls to the slit at the top of his dick, making him jump in surprise before groaning deeply. Pulling the foreskin back up, Stiles swirls his tongue around the skin, sticking in the tip just slightly before he started to tongue at his slit.

He slowly slid his mouth down his dick, taking it in slowly, his hand braced at the base to make up for what he can’t fit it, before pulling it back up and going down again. Again and again, over and over until he found a rhythm and Derek was moaning and trying to keep his hips still so he wouldn’t shove himself down Stiles throat.

He was giving it his all when he felt Derek grab at his shoulder and yank him back up to kiss him.

“Trust me I didn’t want you to stop but if you didn’t I was gonna come and I was hoping I’d be able to do that while I was inside you. That work?”

Stiles nodded his head, not too sure of how his voice would sound at the moment and kissed Derek. Gripping his hips tightly, Derek moved them so Stiles’ back was against the bed and undressed him quickly before placing himself between his thighs.

Stiles had his eyes closed so he didn’t see Derek lower his mouth to his ass until he felt something wet mouthing at his hole. He jerked in surprise and made to move away from the feeling only to find Derek holding on tightly to his waist, stopping him from moving.

He gave his hole another lick, making his tongue wide and flat and Stiles moaned like he was in the running for pornstar of the year, writhing in need as Derek kept up the licking When he had him wet and loose, he began to run the tip of his finger over the ring of muscle, making him clench slightly before he relaxed again.

Derek moved away from between his thighs and reached into the bedside drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube and a condom. Throwing the condom down next to Stiles’ hip, he pops the top on the bottle, spills some over his fingers and places himself back in between his legs.

Stiles can feel Derek’s finger slowly press into him, thicker than his and really a thousand times better than anything he’s ever attempted. After a short while he pulled out and pushed in with two fingers, making Stiles hiss slightly against the tiny stretch before he began begging Derek for more.

“Derek please, I need more, give me more.” His mouth opened as he panted, he held on tightly to Derek’s shoulder, small crescent moons appearing from where his nails bit in. “Just fuck me, god please. Just do it, I’m ready."

At that point Derek already had three fingers in him and his pupils were blown completely, only a small ring of red visible as he stared at where his fingers were disappearing into Stiles.

Removing his fingers, he quickly ripped open the condom and rolled it on, slicking himself up by the time Stiles found the energy to push himself up on his elbows.

“How do you want me, big guy? Hands and knees, on my side, what?"

“On your back, just like you are now. I want to see you, I _need_ to see you.”

Nodding, Stiles fell back as Derek grabbed his hips and pulled him down the bed, lining himself up with his entrance before slowly pushing in. His hands gripped at the sheets tightly as his back arched at the feel of Derek in him, heavy and hot and everything Stiles didn’t know he was missing.

Derek dropped his head and pulled Stiles in for a kiss, their lips not really meeting as they panted against each other. Derek was pulling out slowly and pushing back in slowly, a slow slide that made his nerves light up with every push.

“Faster, go faster. I need it faster. Harder.” Stiles felt useless, his muscles not cooperating and his limbs like jelly but Derek made up for it.

Anchoring his hands beside Stiles’ head, Derek pulled almost completely out before slaming back in hard, making Stiles scream out in shock, gasping for air and begging for him to do that again because he had hit a spot that made him see stars.

Derek did it again and again and again until Stiles could feel a heat building in his lower back and stomach

“Derek, I’m close.” Stiles panted the words against Derek’s shoulder, biting at the flesh to keep from screaming out. That made Derek lose his rhythm and he just continued to slam into Stiles over and over again before he came, biting deeply into Stiles shoulder as he did.

The bite is what brought Stiles over the edge, his vision blacking out as he came on his belly.

Derek went limp against him, collapsing on top of Stiles and on the cum that was drying on his skin. Pulling out slowly—causing Stiles to whimper at the emptiness—he pulled the condom off and knotted it before throwing it near the door.

As Stiles came down from his high, he realised two things, 1. that he had 200 lbs of exhausted werewolf on top of him and a drying cum stain and 2. Derek had bit him when he came.

“You bit me.” Stiles stated obviously. He really didn’t mind, he knew what it meant. Derek had claimed him fully as his mate and the bit was a symbol so other wolves and supernatural creature knew he was taken.

Derek stiffened on top of him, shifting as if her were going to get off of Stiles and roll away from him which he wouldn’t let happen. Stiles locked his arms around Derek’s back, knowing that it wouldn’t hold him if he didn’t want to stay there but he did it anyway. Derek didn’t even try to struggle out of his grasp, just accepted where he was and turned his head to look him in the eyes.

“Yeah. I’m sorry I did it without talking to you it was just, I got caught up in the moment and it just happened and, yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Hey no need to be sorry, I completely understand why you did. You had to mark your territory so no one could try and take me from you. I don’t mind.”

Derek’s eyes widened in shock when Stiles said he didn’t mind. “Really? You’re okay with it, okay with being mine?”

“Haven’t we been over this already, I feel like we have. I am 100% ok with being stuck with you for the rest of my life. Shit, I am 1,000% okay with it. Don’t ever doubt that.” Lifting his head, he kissed Derek firmly and heavily, trying to pour all of his love into that one action. “I love you, Derek. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Smiling against his lips, Derek kissed Stiles firmly once more. “I love you too, Stiles. Always will.”

Tightening his arms around Derek, Stiles closed his and and drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face.

°°°

_The scene in front of him would be one he remembered for the rest of his life, even if it was fabricated in his dreams, something they can’t recreate in real life._

_They’re surrounded by family, the ones that are there with them in the real world and the ones who couldn’t stay long enough to see the adults the grew into in person but were always there regardless. Kids were running around in the woods, laughing and making noise in the way only childhood happiness has the ability to. Some of them come up to him and ask him to play with them but he brushes them off sweetly, saying he will later which tides them over for a while._

_He can see his dad and his wife sitting on the porch, his arm around her shoulders so she’s draped against his chest, a smile so full of love gracing his face whenever he looks at her. His mom is sitting across from the two of them, her smile happy because the love of her life is happy again and that’s all she ever wanted for him._

_Arms slide around his waist and pull him close, his eyes drifting shut as a bright smile breaks out across his face. He never tired of being in the arms of the man who changed his life, who made him realise what he need and filled his life with things he didn’t even know he was missing._

_Turning around in his arms, he looks deep into his green blue eyes and falls even more in love. He had a smile on his face as well and he couldn’t help but lean up to kiss him, sweet and deep and full of all the love he feels for him daily._

_The arms holding him squeeze him tighter when he kisses back. His eyes flutter open slowly and he says the words he’s feeling for the hundredth time but most certainly not the last time._

_“I love you.”_

_“And I love you.”_

_**fin.**_  

**Author's Note:**

> Spell #1:  
> By the moon and the sun/By the gods and fate/Send me my anchor/By the strength of my heart and soul/Send me my partner for life/Answer me
> 
> Spell #2:  
> By the power of the night sky/Illuminate all that hides within/Give me the power to take/To evolve/To provoke/By the will of the fallen gods/Take from the weak and give to the strong/Bless me with the power to be all/Let me be supreme/To weed out what can no longer be used/By the grace of the stars/Give me the right
> 
> Spell/Prayer #3:  
> Let me be blessed by the gods/Let me be blessed by the heavens/Power from above and below/Allow this power to me
> 
> Spell #4:  
> Once alone, born apart/Together, a single heart/ Bound by magic light and sage/Together we live through the age/ Bound by salt, flesh, and fire/Together we share a desire/Brought together by the heavens and gods/Let us be not at odds/Together we live/Together we die
> 
>  
> 
>  **a few extra notes:**  
>  \- Melissa and John are married  
> \- Scott isn't Melissa's son bc reasons
> 
> that's all I can think of. idk
> 
>  
> 
> [check me out on tumblr maybe](http://mythoesoul.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> please leave comments and kudos and stuff, it means so much to me. much love xx


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